


Hail Mary

by ohofcourse



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Anal Fingering, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Caning, Dom/sub, Edgeplay, Electric stimulation, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, Improper Use of Catholic Rituals, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Non-Sexual Submission, Recreational Drug Use, Red Herrings, Religion Kink, Restraints, Sex Club, Spanking, Subspace, Switching, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Topping from the Bottom, Wax Play, e-stim machine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:14:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 37,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28030740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohofcourse/pseuds/ohofcourse
Summary: “Just don’t go into this like you usually do,” Machi warned. Her serious little face was all pinched, the fluffy front of her pink bangs dusting over her eyes.“How do I usually go into things?” Hisoka asked amusedly.“Like a bastard.”“Hey now--”“You think you’re better than everyone you meet and you don’t care if people know that. It’s inappropriate and it won’t fly there, especially not with him.”“Mmhm,” Hisoka said, but he wasn’t listening, scooping a fingerful of foam off the top of his cappuccino.
Relationships: Hisoka/Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer
Comments: 55
Kudos: 197





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to be adding tags as we go! I've put tags that I know will be applicable for the next few chapters, but more will definitely be added! 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

“I mean,” Machi began, scratching her head dubiously, “I could take you, but I honestly don’t think it’s your scene.” 

Hisoka leaned back in his uncomfortable metal chair. He had his feet propped up on the edge of a large ceramic pot, in which sat a cheerful lemon tree that was dappling Machi with afternoon light. 

Hisoka looked sort of smug, sort of indignant, an eyebrow raised at Machi in question. 

“You don’t think I can handle it?” 

“You’re just…” Machi struggled with the right word. “Doesn’t matter. If you want me to take you there, I can.” 

“Not like I’m going to have sex the first time I go,” Hisoka pointed out. 

“That’s true,” Machi mused. A waiter set down two cappuccinos in front of them. 

“Thanks,” Hisoka said absently. 

“Just don’t go into this like you usually do,” Machi warned. Her serious little face was all pinched, the fluffy front of her pink bangs dusting over her eyes. 

“How do I usually go into things?” Hisoka asked amusedly. 

“Like a bastard.” 

“Hey now--” 

“You think you’re better than everyone you meet and you don’t care if people know that. It’s inappropriate and it won’t fly there, especially not with him.” 

“Mmhm,” Hisoka said, but he wasn’t listening, scooping a fingerful of foam off the top of his cappuccino. 

* * *

It looked, on the outside, like a very normal nightclub. It was less seedy than most places Hisoka was used to; the front entrance was well-lit and the doors were painted oil-slick black. There were two bouncers at the front and they both had earpieces in. 

Hisoka was made to show ID and then he and Machi were in. 

“The front is more or less a normal club,” Machi said, raising her voice over the music. She wasn’t wrong. There were a few high tables where people were standing, but it was mostly booths, and in the center, a bar with a wraparound counter. 

“The back half is where there are actual scenes, and there’s private rooms.” 

“Let’s go there, then,” Hisoka said, shoving his hands in his pockets and leading the way. 

When they had met outside of Machi’s apartment, she had given Hisoka a reluctant look-over. 

“You’re wearing that?” 

“I wear this outfit all the time,” Hisoka said, indignant. 

“Yeah,” Machi said sourly, “I know.” 

She took the lead now, pushing ahead of Hisoka and hopping over the velvet rope that blocked off the front of the club from the back. 

They had to go through another door, this one also guarded by a bouncer who was sitting behind a wooden desk. 

“Hi Machi. If either of you have a bag, I’ll need to check it, otherwise, you’re good to go.” 

“Thanks!” Machi called. She let Hisoka open the door and hold it for her. 

The first thing Hisoka noticed as they walked in was the temperature. It was noticeably colder in this part of the club, and darker. 

There were still booths but there were also low couches with coffee tables, and then, in the center, sort of like a strip club, there was a stage. And it was occupied.

A blonde woman in a tiny black dress was bent at the waist, brushing back a dark-haired man’s bangs and pulling his blindfold down to make eye contact with him, her own brows furrowed with single-minded concern. 

He nodded dazedly, expression slack, and then croaked out an unintelligible word that Hisoka took to mean he wanted to keep going, because immediately after, the woman pulled away and reclaimed her spot on a black sofa, where another woman, in a black sweater and a skirt, was waiting. 

She had on glasses and there was a tiny pout to her expression, that the blonde woman kissed away with all the fondness of a lover. 

The man she had left behind was slumped against a pole built into the ground, his arms bound behind it. He was wearing underwear--black briefs--and nothing else, and there was a spreader bar at the middle of his thighs, forcing them apart. 

The blonde woman distractedly fiddled with a remote as her companion adjusted herself to straddle her, tiny hands digging into short, silky blonde hair. 

A few feet away, on the miniature stage, the man moaned. His head knocked back and his thighs jerked against the bar keeping them open. Hisoka had never really seen something like this happen in public. He’d done his foray into sex toys--vibrators and the like, even bondage--but it all felt benign and unnecessary, like he was putting on some show for people who weren’t there. 

There were certainly people here. Most of the patrons of this club were watching the man, if not openly, then out of the corners of their eyes as they drained their glasses.

“That’s Chrollo,” Machi said, smiling. 

_ “Him?”  _ Hisoka asked incredulously. He was inarguably attractive--well-built, a darling face from what Hisoka could tell around the blindfold--but he didn’t seem very intimidating, didn’t seem like the kind of person who would present any real challenge for Hisoka. 

“He’s only really like that for Paku.” Paku was the blonde woman, Hisoka realized, who had an arm wrapped around the dark-haired woman’s waist, kissing at her neck reverently. 

“And that’s Shizuku.” Machi had told him about both of these women, at length, hearts in her eyes.

“Shalnark is somewhere around here,” Machi continued, head swiveling. “Fei and Phinks are at home, I think. They don’t come here as often ‘cause they’re a serious couple now and all they do is watch movies or whatever.” 

“Okay,” Hisoka said absently, still watching Chrollo. He could see the outline of his cock through his underwear, and additionally, he could see the vibe attached to, making a small rectangular imprint. His hips were rolling half-sloppily as he grew closer to orgasm. 

Hisoka sort of wanted to take a seat right there and watch, but Machi was already dragging him to the table where the two women were. 

“Hisoka,” the dark-haired woman said quietly, studying him as he sat down. The blonde woman swiveled her head and fixed Hisoka with a wary look. She had dark, angled eyebrows and a sort of hawkish expression. 

Hot, but punishing. 

“Machi has told us a lot about you,” Paku said. Shizuku’s hand snaked over Paku’s lap and grabbed the remote. She turned it up with a sort of cruel curiosity, like she was performing an experiment on a rat. 

Chrollo, a few feet away on the stage, cried out, metal rattling as he jerked against his restraints. 

“Likewise,” Hisoka said. 

“How much longer?” Machi asked, propping her feet up on the table and slumping back against the couch cushions. Her gaze kept sliding from Shizuku and Paku to Chrollo. 

“Few minutes, tops,” Paku said, snatching the remote from Shizuku’s hand, who immediately went onto her phone. 

Hisoka spent the next five minutes casually getting to know Shizuku and Paku, who, though very different, worked well together as a duo, bouncing off each other with a practiced, married ease. As they talked, Chrollo grew progressively louder. 

He came with an attractive, restrained spasm, head lolling forward, groaning like he had been punched. 

The leather straps around his thighs for the spreader bar were digging in so tightly that Hisoka was amazed he hadn’t broken skin. 

Paku and Shizuku watched with gleaming eyes, and at a second glance, Hisoka realized Machi was doing the same thing. 

They let him sit there for a few minutes, chest heaving in the aftermath. The vibrator was still going on, clearly, because he was making these quiet, hurt sounds, hips jumping with oversensitivity. 

It was Shizuku who finally put a stop to it, sliding the remote out of Paku’s hand and flicking it off. Chrollo sagged in relief, stomach rippling with each breath. 

Paku and Shizuku freed him from the spreader bar and the built-in pole in tandem, working together like they had practiced. Paku peppered kisses to the high points of Chrollo’s cheeks and slowly, gingerly pulled off the blindfold, pressing his eyelids closed with her thumbs. 

A robe was draped over his shoulders and sloppily tied at his waist, and then Shizuku and Paku got on either side of him and hoisted him to his feet. He stumbled at first, and then righted himself, eyes fluttering open like a newborn calf. 

He had lovely eyes, eyes Hisoka would expect usually to be very clear, river-water-colored, but dark. They were hazy now, like a smoke screen had been pulled over them. He wavered in one spot, and then Paku was gently guiding him to one of the private rooms to lay down, Shizuku in merry tow. 

“I should probably go, too,” Machi mused, but the way she said it was forcibly cavallier. She was practically vibrating with eagerness as she cut through the crowd, going the same way the first three had gone. 

Hisoka watched her go, mildly amused, and found himself an empty seat at the bar.

In the distance, he heard the loud, slightly invigorating smack of leather against skin. Somewhere closer, someone moaned. 

The club itself wasn’t as voyeuristic as he had expected. There was some pda, some couples engaging in “scenes” as Machi had referred to them as, but none were as intense as Chrollo’s, and even that seemed tame, based on the videos Hisoka had watched. 

“What can I get for you?” The bartender asked. She was really, very pretty, leaned forward on the bar, a short black bob cutting a line across her cheek. 

“Surprise me,” Hisoka said. The woman smiled, cheeks rounding, and then she whirled around and began to prepare a drink in a highball glass. 

In the few minutes it took for the drink to be made, Machi reappeared, looking suspiciously ruffled, and a little redder. 

“Sorry to leave you like that.” 

“I’m a big boy.” 

“Sometimes,” Machi said with a sigh, sliding into the seat next to him and slumping forward onto the sticky bar surface. 

“Machi, what can I do, baby?” 

“Literally anything,” Machi mumbled into her arm. “So tired.” 

“Will you be offended by a Sidecar?” 

“Not even a little bit.” The bartender got to work, pausing Hisoka’s drink to rim a cocktail glass with sugar. 

“What’d you get?” Machi asked. 

“Dunno, she’s surprising me.” Machi let out a knowing scoff. 

“You know you’re here for Chrollo, right?” Yes, Hisoka did know that, but Chrollo wasn’t exactly impressing him right now, with his big doe eyes and pink cheeks. 

“Yeah,” Hisoka said eventually. A drink was slid in front of him. The bartender smiled very knowingly at him, and then went back to making Machi’s cocktail. 

“Don’t judge a book,” Machi said. 

“I’m not judging any book,” Hisoka replied, sipping his drink and finding himself pleasantly surprised. 

“Just give him a few minutes and he’ll come out and you can talk. Don’t drink too much, he doesn’t like that.” 

“You’re kidding,” Hisoka said, half-incredulous. 

“Nope. He’s very big about being clear-headed and all that, especially with this stuff.” 

“Sounds like a drag, Machi.” Machi did a funny little laugh, like she sort of agreed with him. 

“He’s unorthodox, but I really think you’d get on. Just talk to him, and then you can make your decision.” 

“Hm. What are you so tired for?” 

“The girls,” Machi said with a fond expression, “have just been a lot.”

“Shizuku and Paku?” 

“They have better stamina than I do, in every sense.” Hisoka laughed into his drink. 

“That doesn’t surprise me.” 

“Hm--” Machi’s phone buzzed. 

“Oh, Chrollo’s at one of the private booths in the back. Come on.” Hisoka took his drink with him, ignoring Machi’s dirty look, and followed her to the back of the club, where partitioned booths were hidden behind curtains of raw silk. 

Machi poked her head through one curtain and Hisoka heard a light, masculine laugh, and then Machi was holding the curtain fully open and ushering Hisoka inside. 

He sat with a thump and set his drink down. 

Chrollo looked a little different. 

He was wearing a suit jacket over a black sweater and his hair was slightly damp. He was typing something on his phone, and with the shift of his sleeve, Hisoka could see rings of red around both wrists, but it looked like they had been soothed with lotion, kissed with red-painted lips. 

“Hisoka, right?” Chrollo asked, putting his phone face down on the table. 

“That’s me.” 

Chrollo’s gaze drifted to Hisoka’s drink, and his mouth twitched, but he didn’t say anything about it. 

“Machi’s told me you wanted to get into some scenes.” 

“I’m just bored,” Hisoka said with a shrug, leaning back in the booth and staring at Chrollo through the ends of his bangs. 

“Bored,” Chrollo echoed. 

“Sex is boring.” 

“You have a lot of sex?” Chrollo asked. 

“Do you?” Hisoka shot back, smiling. 

“I do okay. Why’s sex boring?” 

“It’s not very challenging.” Hisoka took a sip of his drink, took note of the way Chrollo’s gaze followed his mouth. 

“Is that your first drink?” Hisoka made an exasperated sound. 

“Machi told me you’d--” 

“I don’t want to have a conversation you won’t remember.” 

“I’m three sips into my first drink,” Hisoka drawled. 

Chrollo wasn’t un-charming. There was a slightly infuriating tilt to his smile, a gentleness that seemed both very genuine and disarmingly false. 

“So you like to be challenged.” 

“Yes,” Hisoka agreed. 

“What do you do for a living?” The question was so out of left field that it almost tore a nervous laugh from Hisoka. 

“Really?” 

“I’m curious,” Chrollo said with a shrug. Hisoka took another, longer sip of his drink and sighed. 

“Look, you’re super cute, and I can tell you’ve got a thing going on--” He gestured to Chrollo’s suit jacket, “But I just want to have some good sex, that’s all.” Hisoka’s next sip drained the glass in one go. He set it down with a little bit of bite and then leaned back into the booth and waited for Chrollo’s response. 

He had his head tilted, lips pursed. 

“Yeah, okay. Let’s talk about preferences.” And then he reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a little black leather book, and clicked a nice-looking pen. 

It was all at once both incredibly endearing and irritating. 

Hisoka leaned over the table and watched from upside-down as Chrollo made three columns on a blank page and wrote  _ yes, no, maybe _ in them. 

“Let’s start with things you definitely want to do.” Chrollo looked up at him, a little bored. 

“I don’t think I know all the names,” Hisoka said, fishing an ice cube out of his empty glass and crunching on it. 

“Okay,” Chrollo said, mouth twitching. “I’ll rattle off a list, then.” 

“Off you go.” 

“Impact play.” 

“Sure,” Hisoka said. “Wait, that’s like spanking, isn’t it?” 

“Among other things.” 

“Yeah, yes,” Hisoka said, chewing his ice enthusiastically. Chrollo actually smiled and then wrote it down. 

Hisoka had expected his handwriting to be sloping cursive, something a little stuffy and self-important, but it wasn’t that at all. He wrote like a very gentle father: clean, blocky letters in all capitals. 

“Have you tried edging, or--” 

“Okay, wait,” Hisoka said, holding out a hand. Chrollo regarded it with a mystified expression. “For  _ no,  _ put any human waste, including vomit. No roleplaying. No drugged sex. And I don’t like it when people whisper in my ear, it makes me itchy.” 

“Okay,” Chrollo said, writing that all down. Hisoka watched him put:  _ NO EAR WHISPERING - ITCHY?  _

“No tickling. Don’t know if that’s a thing, but no. And I don’t like feet.” 

“Sure,” Chrollo said. 

“Well--okay, put feet in the  _ maybe  _ column, but don’t get too excited.” 

“Alright.” 

“For  _ maybe,  _ also put lingerie and all that stuff. It’s not really my style but I’m not viciously opposed to it. And anal.” 

“Anything anal, or just sex?” 

That seemed to stump Hisoka. He paused, lips pursing in thought. 

“Well, usually during sex, I’m the one--you know--doing the fucking.” 

“Yes,” Chrollo said encouragingly. 

“But I’m not scared of it or anything. I just don’t think--”

“We’ll put all of it under  _ maybe _ , then,” Chrollo said, a little gentle. 

“And for  _ yes,  _ I think I like overstimulation. I don’t know about edging but put it there anyway. I’ve only ever done it to myself accidentally, you know.” 

“Right.” 

“Bondage? You can put that down, too.” 

“What about gags?” Chrollo asked, and the way he asked it, a little bit like he wished Hisoka was wearing one right now, made Hisoka want to laugh. 

“Yeah, why not?” Chrollo wrote it down and then sighed, reclining in the booth with his arm thrown over the edge of the leather backrest. 

“There’s definitely lots more to go over, but I don’t want to overwhelm you.” Hisoka bit back a scoff. “Let’s exchange numbers and I’ll send you a few other things as I think of them.” 

“Okay,” Hisoka said, surprised by the quickness of all this, even though it had been at his urging. 

He knew it wasn’t like dating, but he figured there would be a little bit more discussion, a little bit more of the “getting to know each other” part. But then, Hisoka had always been told he was an easy personality to get the gist of. 

“It was nice meeting you,” Chrollo said seriously, holding out a hand. 

“Mhm,” Hisoka replied, taking it and squeezing as hard as he could. He was taller than Chrollo was, bigger, actually, all around, which was both pleasing and a little disappointing. 

“I’m going to be heading home, I’ve had a long day.” Chrollo said it with a sheepish smile. 

“I bet,” Hisoka replied. 

“But you’re welcome to stay. I know Machi was planning on sticking around.” 

At the sound of her name, Machi poked her head through the curtain and raised both eyebrows. 

“Were you outside the whole time?” Chrollo asked lightly, though his mouth was turned down at the edges. 

“Yeah,” Machi said, picking at her nails. Chrollo opened his mouth and then closed it. 

“Fine,” he said eventually. “I’m going home.” He bobbed his head again at Hisoka and then pocketed his black book and moved to leave. Machi dug her hand into his hair and ruffled it. 

His shoulders came up and Hisoka saw his ears redden just a little. 

“Bye, Chrollo.” 

“Bye, Machi. Bye, Hisoka, talk to you soon.” And then he was gone, cutting across the dark labyrinth of the club, bidding pleasant farewells to people as he went. 

“Can we get another drink?” Hisoka asked. Machi looked him over, eyes narrowed. 

“It went okay?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You’re not getting cold feet?” 

“They’re blazing hot, don’t worry.” 

“Then let’s get a drink.” 

Machi and Hisoka spent the rest of the evening there. Hisoka got the bartender’s number, just in case Chrollo didn’t work out, and Machi made him pay for all of their drinks. 

* * *

Chrollo texted Hisoka that night with an additional, very long list of terms. Hisoka had to look half of them up, but he wasn’t daunted. 

It was the last one that really got to him:  _ would you be open to eventually doing things in public? Like at the club? Voyeurism isn’t for everyone, so I understand if the answer is no.  _

Hisoka had been at a loss for a response. 

Eventually, he went with,  _ i’ll let you know after we’ve fucked a few times :)  _

Chrollo had replied graciously, insisting that Hisoka took his time, that he was free to change his stance on anything he was comfortable with at any time. 

It was overkill, Hisoka thought, but it was nice. 

A weekend blew by before Hisoka got the next text. 

_ Chrollo: would you be free to come over tomorrow night?  _

_ Hisoka: sure  _

_ Chrollo: here’s my address. Please shower before and make sure you’ve had some food to eat and some water to drink. No alcohol.  _

_ Hisoka: okay <3  _

Hisoka took a very thorough shower and then stood in front of the mirror and stared at himself for a few minutes. 

His skin was still pink from the shower, but otherwise, he looked okay. He considered putting on makeup, but he figured it would probably rub off at some point, if things went well.

Chrollo had told him to come at seven. It was half-past six. If he left now, he’d be twenty minutes early, which would probably be inconvenient. 

He got changed as quickly as possible and flew out the door. 

* * *

“You’re early,” Chrollo said, skipping into the lobby of his apartment building with his hands in his pockets. 

“Ah, really? Sorry.” 

Chrollo looked him over, lingering on his face, on his gleeful expression. Chrollo looked freshly-showered too, hair slightly damp and pushed back. A few strands of his bangs fell over his eyes. 

He was wearing slacks but no suit jacket, just a sweater. 

“You look nice,” Hisoka said honestly. Chrollo looked down at himself and blinked. On anyone else, Hisoka would see it as false modesty and would nail him for it, but he had a feeling Chrollo really was surprised to be complimented. 

“Thanks, so do you.” 

Hisoka was wearing raw Japanese denim, of course he looked nice. 

“Let’s head up.” 

Hisoka followed Chrollo into the elevator and leaned back against the furthest wall, watching as Chrollo turned his phone on to check the time. He looked nervous. 

_ “ _ We’re going to start very simple today,” Chrollo said, lifting his head to meet Hisoka’s gaze. 

Ah, not nervous, then. Anxious.

Anxious, Hisoka figured, to get started. 

“Simple?” He asked as Chrollo led him into his apartment. It was one of those newly-renovated old buildings, so it had crown molding and herringbone wood floors, but also a smart fridge and glass walls for windows. 

He had an immaculate white linen couch that was sullied by a fuzzy pink and yellow cartoon blanket. Chrollo cleared his throat and folded it, and then went down the hall to presumably throw it in his linen closet.

“Would you like a glass of water?” He asked, returning from the hallway.

“I’m alright,” Hisoka said. Chrollo rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

“Bedroom, then?” 

“Yup.” 

* * *

Chrollo’s bedroom was plain save for the built-in bookshelves dominating one wall. He had had bookshelves in his living room, too, scaling the walls like mold, hundreds of books shoved into teak wooden shelves. 

His bedroom had lower ceilings, and by virtue, less room for books, but he had done an admirable job of compensating for this. 

The shelf extended the entire length of his room, stopping at the corner where the window met the wall. 

“Big reader?” Hisoka asked, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning back to get a good look. 

Most of the books were thick and impressive, but there were some children’s books, too, old and painted pastel. 

He had about four copies of the Quran, and about twelve copies of the bible. 

Chrollo cleared his throat. 

“Hm?” Hisoka asked, turning on his heel and realizing he had been totally distracted. Chrollo was standing next to his bed, fiddling with an adjustable lamp head built into his headboard. 

“Hisoka, why don’t you take off your clothes and set them here,” He said, gesturing to a tufted leather armchair in the corner of the room. As Hisoka stripped, Chrollo took off his shoes and sat on the bed, leaning his weight against the pillows at the headboard. 

Hisoka pulled off his sweatshirt and Chrollo nearly sighed out loud. He was  _ handsome _ , even as he kneeled over and kicked off his jeans with the care of a child. 

“Underwear, too?” Hisoka asked. 

“Might as well,” Chrollo said simply. Hisoka shed his underwear and stood a little proudly, totally naked, his cock half-hard against his thigh. 

“Come here,” Chrollo said quietly. Hisoka obliged, settling onto the bed where Chrollo had gestured. Chrollo took him by the shoulders and turned him so that he was facing away, and then pulled him back until he and Hisoka were chest to back. 

For a moment, Hisoka was tense, neck straining to keep his head up, knees bent and pressed together, and then Chrollo kissed the side of his neck and hooked his ankles around Hisoka’s, dragging them apart very gently. 

Like a switch had been flicked off, Hisoka relaxed, settling against Chrollo properly, his temple to Chrollo’s cheek. 

“Comfortable?” 

“You gonna tie me up now, or whatever?” 

“Not today. I said we’d start simple, remember?” 

Hisoka made an assenting sound. Chrollo leaned to the side and took a pump of lube from his bedside table. 

“We’re just going to talk,” Chrollo said, warming up the lube in his hand. 

“I’m good at that,” Hisoka breathed. 

“Are you?” Chrollo chuckled. 

“ _ Ah, Christ--”  _ Chrollo wrapped his slick hand around Hisoka’s cock. He instantly swelled to full hardness, thighs relaxing apart even more, head tilting back. 

“What are we gonna talk about?” Hisoka asked after a full minute, voice sounding considerably less sharp. 

Chrollo rubbed his thumb over Hisoka’s slit, feeling a kiss of delight as Hisoka groaned. He pressed another kiss, wetter, a little less chaste, to his cheek. 

Hisoka turned blindly and met him with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. He was a good kisser, if a little forward. 

“What were you like in school?” Chrollo asked as they pulled away. 

“School?” Hisoka laughed. It petered out into a sigh as Chrollo adjusted his grip. 

“Mhm.” 

“I did pretty terribly.” 

“That’s surprising. You seem very smart.” 

“My teachers really wanted me to get tested for-for ADHD or whatever. One of those things, you know.” Hisoka’s legs were spread lazily, not an ounce of self-consciousness. He was looking down at Chrollo’s hand as it moved up and down, scrutinizing, as if after all this was done, he was going to write a tidy review of Chrollo’s technique. 

“Did you?” 

“No,” Hisoka said with a scoff. 

“Parents didn’t believe them?” 

“They were foster parents. I don’t think they wanted to deal with that stuff.” Hisoka’s stomach flexed as he sighed, head lolling ever so slightly, so that Chrollo could see the lovely slope of his nose and the pout of his mouth. 

“I see,” Chrollo said softly. 

“But I was a bad kid,” Hisoka admitted, shrugging a little. “I was overly competitive and too energetic and I made the other kids cry all the time.” 

“You were a kid,” Chrollo said into his shoulder, twisting his wrist at the same time, watching as Hisoka’s thighs clenched. 

“I knew what I was doing,” Hisoka said amusedly after he gave himself a moment to recover. “I just liked causing problems. Still do.” Chrollo wanted to say,  _ seems like a cry for attention,  _ but this was only their first time, and he didn’t want to sour it by pointing out unflattering things about Hisoka. 

“Could you move your hand faster?” Hisoka asked, a little petulant. 

“No,” Chrollo replied. 

“Ugh,” Hisoka said, going limp, like a dog refusing to walk on a lead. Chrollo took extra care to slow down his stroking after that, rubbing his thumb over the head, his grip as tight and hot as a vice. 

Hisoka was finally starting to react to it: breathing out these tiny, honest moans, eyes closing. He was unabashed about taking pleasure in things, which was both refreshing and disarming. 

Chrollo was so used to people biting back moans, screwing their eyes shut, all those little tells that said,  _ this feels good but I don’t want you to know it.  _

“Hisoka,” Chrollo said suddenly as his hips kicked up, cock sliding through his hand in a slow, wet drag. 

“Mhm,” Hisoka replied, and for the first time, his voice sounded distant, like he wasn’t all there. 

“We didn’t talk about this explicitly at the club,” Chrollo went on, tightening his hand, watching in satisfaction as Hisoka’s stomach rippled, as his thighs clenched around nothing. 

It was getting to him, slowly but surely. 

“We didn’t... _ hn... _ talk about what at the club?”

“Do you like pain?” 

Hisoka’s whole body jerked, a singular motion that sent heat racing through Chrollo’s stomach, hitting his groin and staying there. He picked up the pace just a little on Hisoka’s cock--incentive, he supposed, for Hisoka to keep going, to be honest with him. 

“Yeah, I like it,” Hisoka whispered, to Chrollo’s complete unsurprise. 

“But?” Because Chrollo also heard a  _ but  _ in there, tucked at the end. 

“I don’t like it with everyone,” Hisoka settled on breathlessly. “Sometimes people think-- _ fuck, fuck go faster.”  _ Hisoka’s whole body arched, back lifting off of Chrollo’s chest, head digging into his shoulder. He was strong, stronger than Chrollo, and he knew this, and he wielded it in cleverly subtle ways.

“Keep talking,” Chrollo said a little smugly. 

“Sometimes people think they can throw their weight around, just to-- _ ungh _ \--rough me up.” 

“And you don’t like that,” Chrollo concluded. 

“I don’t like people who think they’re better than me when they aren’t.” It was startlingly genuine for their first time together and Hisoka seemed to realize this because he fell silent after, ears flushing red, thighs twitching like he wanted to close them. 

“That’s understandable,” Chrollo said softly. He wanted Hisoka to keep talking, but in his eagerness to listen to him, he had sped up his hand, and it looked like Hisoka was getting close. He was making soft, distant moans, head tipped all the way back over Chrollo’s shoulder. His mouth was nearly against Chrollo’s ear. He could hear every errant breath and sigh, every sound. 

“I get it,” Chrollo went on, hand moving faster. Hisoka rolled his hips upward, dragging his cock through Chrollo’s fist with a deliberate angling. Not for the first time, Chrollo thought of what Hisoka would be like in bed if given free reign. 

“You want people to earn it.” 

Hisoka whimpered like he’d just been caused pain.  _ There it is,  _ Chrollo thought, feeling smug.

“M’gonna come,” Hisoka gasped a second later. 

“Was I right?” Chrollo asked, slowing his hand, loosening his grip, watching in delight as Hisoka groaned pitifully. He tried to curl forward, in on himself, hands jumping from the bed to Chrollo’s thighs, but Chrollo held him firmly in place with an arm barred over his waist.

_ “Yes, yes,  _ Christ.”

If Chrollo had been counting, that would have been Hisoka’s third time cursing that night. But, it was his first scene and Chrollo was going to go easy on him. 

“Okay, good.” 

Chrollo picked up the pace again, using his free hand to come under Hisoka’s chin and hold his head in place, against his own shoulder. Hisoka strained against the hold for all of two seconds, before going even limper than before. 

Every breath he took came out as a moan. His hips jumped powerfully, belly roiling. 

_ “Close, close, close,”  _ Hisoka mumbled. 

“Good, Hisoka, almost there.” 

_ “Chrollo--”  _ And then he came. 

The aftershocks lasted longer than expected from what was basically a garden-variety handjob. His whole body kept twitching with pleasure, even as he sagged back against Chrollo, spent. 

Chrollo still had his hand pressed against Hisoka’s chin; he could feel the barely-there whimpers coming from his throat. 

If he reacted like this to a hand on his cock, then he would be unbelievable with everything else. 

“ _ Jesus Christ,  _ you’re good at that,” Hisoka panted after a minute of silence. Chrollo felt his lips twitch. Four.

“You curse a lot,” he noted, mostly to himself.

“That’s barely cursing,” Hisoka replied drowsily. He was already sinking into the bed, eyes fluttering closed, letting all of his weight drape over Chrollo. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me, now,” Chrollo said softly, straining to grab the packet of baby wipes he kept on his bedside. 

“Ah, I feel good.”

“You did very well,” Chrollo agreed, pulling out one wipe and running it down Hisoka’s stomach. 

Hisoka flinched at the coolness of it and then relaxed once more. 

“It was just a handjob.” 

“Like I said, I always start simple.” Chrollo wiped the cum off Hisoka’s stomach and his own hand, before grabbing a new wipe and very gingerly running it over Hisoka’s softening cock. 

Hisoka stiffened and Chollo was about to apologize before he moaned against Chrollo’s ear. 

“You’re not supposed to like that,” Chrollo said chidingly, but secretly, he was very pleased. It bode well for whatever future scenes they would do. 

He heard Hisoka snort. 

“Am I supposed to get you off now?” 

“You’re not supposed to do anything.” 

“Yeah, okay, fine, but do you want me to?” Chrollo laughed, low and thrumming. Hisoka could feel it against his back. 

“I don’t need to get off every time, don’t worry about it. Today was about you.” As he said it, Chrollo slid his hands up Hisoka’s limp arms, squeezing at his biceps before sliding back down. 

It was a casual attempt at aftercare for what was a casual attempt at a scene. Hisoka seemed to be enjoying it, though, his head dropping to the side, soft puffs of air escaping his nose. 

He had an insanely perfect nose, sloped just the right way. In fact, he was insanely perfect-looking all around, an odd hybrid of feminine and masculine features that seemed to suit him just right. 

His eyes were hooded, like Paku’s, but sort of angled--cat-like--and a brilliant gold. They were half-opened now, glimmering with satisfaction. 

When Machi had first told him about Hisoka, it had been done with a reluctant grimace.

_ “He’s--ugh, you’ll like him, I think. He’s unbearable, Chrollo, but he’s really handsome, I guess.”  _

_ “You don’t seem like you like him very much.”  _

_ “He’s like that, by design.”  _

That had been what piqued his interest. How could anyone be unlikeable on purpose? And then he had met him and had decided right off the bat that Machi was wrong. He didn’t necessarily like being disliked, he just liked being tested, and the people who didn’t mind that, he took to. 

“Chrollo?” 

Hisoka’s voice sounded hoarse, like he had fallen asleep. When Chrollo looked down and saw bleary, barely-there eyes, he realized he actually had, and the thought was sort of endearing. 

“Hello,” Chrollo said. 

“M’gonna get up. I don’t think you want me spending the night.” 

“If you want--” But Hisoka was already dragging himself upright and sliding off the bed onto unsteady feet. He stretched, like a cat, showing off a ridiculously tapered waist, and then he stumbled to where his jacket was draped over the chair and dug through the pockets until he pulled out a small leather pouch. 

“Wanna smoke?” 

“Cigarettes?” Chrollo asked with a wrinkled nose. 

“With these teeth?” Hisoka asked, lifting his upper lip and flashing a white smile. “No, weed.” 

“Oh, no thank you,” Chrollo said very primly. Hisoka’s eyebrows shot up.

“What? Why not?” 

“I don’t do drugs.” 

“ _ Drugs,  _ it’s weed, first of all, and we already did our sex thing. It won’t cloud your judgement if that’s what you’re scared of.” 

“I’m not scared,” Chrollo said with lowered brows. 

“I’ll roll one and we can share.” 

* * *

They went out on the balcony, Hisoka back in his clothes and wrapped in one of Chrollo’s blankets.

Chrollo was hilarious with smoking. He held the joint very daintily between his fingers and his first drag had induced a frankly adorable round of coughing. 

“You don’t do this very often, do you?” 

“I told you,” Chrollo said, taking a second, ginger drag, holding it in his lungs like he had seen Hisoka do. “I don’t do drugs.” He turned to hand Hisoka the joint, but Hisoka pushed his hand back. 

“Another,” Hisoka whispered. Chrollo blinked and took the end of the joint between his lips again. 

Slowly, Hisoka touched the tip of his fingers to a spot just under Chrollo’s chin, and as he took a drag, Hisoka’s fingers followed. 

It was a strange experience for Chrollo: his throat burning on the inside as smoke travelled down it, and his skin burning on the outside as Hisoka’s fingers left a searing trail in their wake. 

Hisoka’s fingers stopped right at his chest and pressed in, into the bone. Chrollo finally forced himself to look at Hisoka, properly, and found a gleeful gaze, bursting with self-satisfaction. Chrollo wanted to smack that expression off of him, or maybe fuck it out of him, whatever came first. 

“Do you feel it?” Hisoka asked, peering into Chrollo’s eyes. He was too close. Chrollo could see every errant freckle, every short, dark hair of his eyebrows. 

“What is it supposed to feel like?” Chrollo asked, finally exhaling. He found himself whispering, just to account for Hisoka’s closeness. 

“Slow,” Hisoka purred, “heavy. If it’s really strong, you won’t even be able to move your arms, won’t even care to blink. But this stuff isn’t that intense.” 

“I feel slow,” Chrollo whispered. 

“That’s good.” 

“My head kind of hurts.” 

“Water,” Hisoka said, sliding a glass closer to Chrollo’s limp, curled-up hand.

Chrollo drained it in one go and then sighed, slumping back into the chair with a dazed smile. For a few minutes, they sat there in companionable, post-coital silence.

“We’re gonna do this again, right?” Hisoka asked. Chrollo handed him the joint and watched him take a slow, expert drag. 

“I would like to,” Chrollo said. 

“And we’ll actually do stuff?” Chrollo laughed, head knocking back against the lounge chair. 

“I told you. Today was just about us getting to know each other.” 

“Well, you got to know me,” Hisoka grumbled. Chrollo wanted to say,  _ well, that was the point _ , but he bit it back and instead reached for the joint dying between Hisoka’s fingers. 

“Come back this weekend,” Chrollo said, exhaling a plume of smoke, “and I won’t go easy on you, scout’s honor.” 

“This weekend…” Hisoka mused. He actually would be busy, and on top of that, a very reliable hookup of his was in town. 

But then he remembered the feeling of Chrollo’s hand on his chin, holding his head in place, and he felt a shudder run through his body that wasn’t from the biting wind. 

The joint spluttered out and wordlessly, Hisoka held his lighter to it. 

Chrollo took a long drag, going cross-eyed to try to look at the end of the joint igniting again. 

“I’ll be busy,” Hisoka settled on. Chrollo scoffed. 

“Then consider it a break from the chaos.” 

“Okay, this weekend.” 

“This weekend.” 


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> its basically about 7k of sex and subsequent catholic-themed punishment, hope u like it!!

_ Chrollo: Hisoka, were you by any chance raised catholic?  _

Hisoka stared at the text for a few seconds, trying to figure out where on earth Chrollo could be going with this. 

_ Hisoka: um no  _

_ Chrollo: so i take it you haven’t memorized the Hail Mary?  _

_ Hisoka: ...no  _

_ Chrollo: could you please have it memorized before you come over this Saturday. Thank you. _

_ Hisoka: why? _

_ Chrollo: memorized orally. I want you to be confident saying it.  _

_ Hisoka: okay weirdo  _

Hisoka practiced in the shower. 

“Hail Mary,” he began, massaging shampoo into his hair. He felt a little stupid, but then again, Chrollo was the stupid one to ask this of him. 

Hisoka didn’t know when exactly he had decided sex with Chrollo would be worth it, but clearly he had, because he had spent the whole day reciting a prayer like a kid studying for a science test. 

He dressed more casually today: sweatpants and a turtleneck sweater with such a thick collar that he could hide half his face in it if he wanted. Even though it was only his second time seeing Chrollo, he didn’t really feel nervous. 

It was like he was meeting an old hookup, the kind of person he didn’t need to try with--kissing on the couch with your socks on, sex so slow and lazy you could fall asleep during it, exasperated laughter as you kiss. 

Hisoka adjusted the heel of his sock in his shoe. 

He and Chrollo had barely kissed last time. 

His phone buzzed three times over. 

_ Chrollo: Hi Hisoka, just wanted to make sure you haven’t been drinking  _

_ Chrollo: i don’t mean to be a stick in the mud, but I really want you to be clear-headed today _

_ Chrollo: we’re going to spend a little time talking about logistics  _

_ Hisoka: do you think im an alcoholic or something?  _

_ Chrollo: you sent a lot of emojis with your messages today, i wasn’t sure  _

_ Hisoka: that’s just my personality, Chrollo _

_ Chrollo: oh  _

_ Hisoka: see u at six <3  _

* * *

“Hi,” Chrollo said when he answered the door, and for some reason, he sounded a little breathless. Hisoka raised an eyebrow.

“Hello-- _ mmph _ !” Before he could say anything else, he was pulled into an enthusiastic kiss. 

“I just realized,” Chrollo said, lips brushing Hisoka’s, “that we didn’t kiss very much last time.” 

“No,” Hisoka agreed, smiling now. 

“Which is a shame, because you’re a really good kisser.” 

Before Hisoka could respond to  _ that,  _ Chrollo was tugging him into his apartment and sitting him at his kitchen nook. 

The kitchen nook was nestled in a corner of the apartment that was half-window and half-drywall. A built-in bench with cushions made a semi-booth around a large circular table, and three mismatched fabric chairs covered the other side. 

Hisoka took one end of the booth and Chrollo took the other. 

“Would you like some tea?” He asked. He had his little book in his hand, and he was leaned so far over the table that Hisoka doubted he was still even sitting. 

“Sure,” Hisoka said, mystified. 

Chrollo bustled around the kitchen for a few minutes before bringing a pot _ ,  _ like they were at a tea party, and two earthen mugs with no handles. 

“It’s caffeinated,” Chrollo warned as Hisoka poured himself some. 

“That’s okay,” Hisoka replied amusedly. 

“Right. Okay, so, these are things I probably should have gone over with you last time.” 

“Okay.” 

“Do you know the stoplight system?” 

Hisoka actually did know what it was. He’d heard it from Machi, and he’d heard the concept tossed around by his other sexual partners, but sex for him had never gotten to the point where a simple  _ no  _ wouldn’t suffice.

“Yeah.” 

“Have you used it?” 

“No.” 

That seemed to relax Chrollo. Hisoka could tell he liked explaining things. Chrollo poured himself a mug of tea and leaned back.

“I’m sorry if it sounds like I’m lecturing you, but I want to make sure you understand. In the stoplight system, red is for stop, yellow is for slowdown, green is for go.” 

“Wow, it’s sort of like a traffic--” 

“Hisoka,” Chrollo said sternly. “This is serious.” 

Hisoka took a sip of his tea. 

“When we start doing actual scenes, I am going to be checking in for your color quite a bit. If you don’t give it to me, we stop, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

“Safewording out is not something to be embarrassed about. I would  _ much  _ rather you stop a scene halfway through, then push yourself to keep going and then regret it.” Chrollo was staring Hisoka down with sterling silver intensity. The more Hisoka looked at his face, the more he liked it. There was a structure to it that was both incredibly boyish and masculine at the same time. He always had a bit of gray under his eyes, and a little of those cool-toned freckles that very pale people got. 

“In other relationships, I’ve been in your position before--” 

“The submissive,” Hisoka said. Chrollo’s mouth twitched. 

“Yes, and I’ve used red and yellow many times. It’s normal, it’s welcome.” 

“Okay.” 

“That being said. What we’re doing is supposed to be challenging you, correct?” 

For some reason, Hisoka was starting to feel hazy. His hands, wrapped around his mug, kept wanting to fall limp. 

“Yes,” he said softly. 

“I want you to try to differentiate physical sensation from emotional state. If it feels, say, painful, but your emotional state is positive, then it may not be necessary to safeword out, because, like I said, this is supposed to be a challenge for you. Try to push yourself. The reverse is also true. If something feels very good, but you’re still emotionally uncomfortable, that is a perfect example of when it’s time to safeword out. You with me?” 

Hisoka blinked a few times and then nodded. 

“You okay?” Chrollo asked again, frowning now. 

“Could we have sex now?” Hisoka asked. 

“Were you paying attention?” 

“Yes,” Hisoka said a little exasperatedly. 

“Okay, sure.”

“Hey, did you put something in this tea?” 

Hisoka’s question stopped Chrollo in his tracks. He frowned again. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“I feel…” Hisoka didn’t know how to finish his sentence without sounding stupid, but it looked like he didn’t need to because understanding washed over Chrollo’s face. 

“Hisoka, have you ever heard of subspace?” 

“Yeah,” Hisoka whispered. 

“I think us talking about the rules is putting you under a little bit.” Instead of embarrassment, Hisoka’s face twisted with satisfaction.

“Does that mean I’m really good at bdsm?” Already, his eyes were shining a little bit brighter, like he was coming out of it.

“It means you’re the best,” Chrollo said dryly. 

“Ah, good.” 

“But seriously, you may find yourself slipping into it at some point again today. If you can, let me know. If not, I’ll usually be able to tell.” 

“Alright.” 

“Last thing I wanted to talk to you about.” Hisoka groaned, slumping back against the cushions. 

“It’s quick. It’s about the prayer I asked you to memorize.” 

“Hail Mary,” Hisoka began proudly. “Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee--” 

Chrollo rubbed at his brows.

“I’m not asking you to--” 

“Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.” 

“You’re a very annoying person, you know that?” 

“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of our death. Amen.” When Hisoka finished, he smiled. 

“How was that?” 

Chrollo levelled him with a glare. 

“So, back to what I was saying. You curse a lot during sex.” 

“Like most adults in the world, sure.” 

“It’s inappropriate.” 

“Okay,” Hisoka said, eyes gleaming with mirth. He was looking at Chrollo as if he was the last kid in school to still believe in Santa, a mixture of amusement and pity. 

“I’m going to keep track of when you use the Lord’s name in vain.” 

Hisoka laughed. 

“I’m sorry, is this one of your things?” 

Chrollo set his tea down, but he kept his hands on it, fingertips lacing over each other where they met. 

“My things?” He asked. Hisoka leaned forward, brows lowered over his eyes in uncharacteristic focus. His voice was quiet, almost grave, when he asked: 

“Do you get off on God?” 

It was Chrollo’s turn to laugh, but it was high, nervous. 

“No,” he said quickly. “And don’t phrase it like that.” 

“So you do,” Hisoka went on, expression shrewd, “you just don’t like how I said it.” 

“I don’t want you using the Lord’s name in vain, especially during sex,” Chrollo half-snapped. “I’ll keep track of when you say it, and you’ll be punished accordingly.” 

“Ooh, like you’ll spank me?” 

Chrollo sighed. 

“Something like that.” 

“Okay, deal.” 

Chrollo made a face

“It’s not a deal. I was telling you something.” 

“Okay, can we start?” 

Chrollo knocked back the rest of his tea and sighed. 

“Yup, let’s start.” 

* * *

There was a chair in Chrollo’s bedroom--not the tufted one in the corner, but a bare-bones metal chair that looked very uncomfortable.

Hisoka said as much. 

“I’m going to put a towel down.” 

“Is it a thick towel?” 

“Hisoka, take off your clothes, please.” 

“Where are you going?” Hisoka asked, shucking off his sweatpants. If Chrollo was bothered by all the questions, he didn’t show it.

“My closet, where all my equipment is.” 

“Oh, can I come?” 

“Sure.” Hisoka, fully naked now, followed Chrollo into his walk-in closet. 

“Hey, you never told me. What do you do for a living?” 

Chrollo looked at Hisoka over his shoulder. 

“I’m a theological artifacts curator for a few museums.” 

“That explains a lot.” 

“With a focus on Christian iconography and Islamic calligraphy and coinage.” 

“Hmm.” 

“What about you?” Chrollo had stopped in front of a big black dresser situated at the back of his closet. Using his body to shield Hisoka’s gaze, he grabbed a few things and wrapped them in his arms. 

“You’re welcome to look at my collection. I just don’t want you to see everything we’re using today.” 

Hisoka peered over his shoulder and then shrugged. 

“I’m sure I’ll get to know everything eventually.” 

Chrollo knew that Hisoka meant it casually, but the thought of using  _ everything  _ in his collection on Hisoka was slightly dizzying.

“What do you do?” He asked again. 

“I’m a social media manager, but I consult with a bunch of companies.” 

“Oh,” he said faintly. 

Hisoka had said it very brightly, like he was proud of it. Chrollo had to guess, based on the way he dressed and the car he drove, that he made very good money from it, but beyond that, he didn’t understand it as a concept. 

He had an instagram account, but it was run mostly by Pakunoda and Shalnark, and he was pretty sure they did it as a joke. 

“So, you make people buy from companies with Twitter and such?” 

“I make people  _ pay attention.  _ That’s what social media is about.” 

“I see.” 

“You don’t have to be liked if everyone’s already watching you,” and Hisoka said it with a knowing little wink. 

Chrollo felt endeared. 

“Back to the bedroom,” he said, leading the way. 

Hisoka lay spread-eagled on the bed as Chrollo set things up. 

Usually, before scenes, the people Chrollo was used to dealing with were demure, nervous and excited all at the same time. 

Hisoka was biting his nails with a look of such utter boredom, it almost made Chrollo feel embarrassed. 

“Come here,” he said eventually. Hisoka righted himself and before Chrollo could say anything, plopped down on the metal chair--now covered in a towel--and sighed. 

“Is this what bdsm is? Just sitting on an uncomfortable chair for a while?” 

Wordlessly, Chrollo took both of Hisoka’s wrists and pulled them behind the chair, and then reached for the cuffs he had grabbed from his closet. These were leather, not metal, and thick, and they were fastened with silver buckles. 

“Not too tight?” Chrollo asked as he tightened them, stringing the metal chain connecting the cuffs through the back of the chair, so that Hisoka wouldn’t be able to bring them around. 

“No,” Hisoka said hoarsely. His earlier bravado was a little softer now. 

“Color?” 

“Uh, uhm green.” 

“You sure?” 

“I just forgot we were doing that. Yes, I’m sure.” 

“I’m trusting you,” Chrollo said, and the way he said it, the way he held Hisoka’s gaze for a few seconds longer than normal, made Hisoka swallow. 

_ And what do you think i’m doing?  _ Hisoka wanted to say. He was the one being strapped to a chair. 

Chrollo kneeled down in front of him and produced two more restraints, but they were each a single cuff. 

“What are you--” Hisoka trailed off as Chrollo gently pushed his legs apart at the knees and lined his ankles up to the front legs of the chair. 

The legs were wrapped in a thick terry cloth fabric, like little chair leg warmers, and Hisoka quickly realized why. 

His ankle was pressed to one of the legs and then the leather cuff was buckled around it, holding it there. 

“Color?” Chrollo murmured. 

“Green,” Hisoka murmured back. The air in the room felt ten times heavier, ten times hotter. Hisoka was half-hard, cock lying against his thigh. 

As Chrollo started on his other ankle, Hisoka dragged his gaze down to follow him. Even though he could feel Chrollo’s hands, it was a different experience watching it. 

He took his ankle, gripping it, squeezing the bone gently, and then pressed it to the chair leg. Even with the terry cloth cover, it was cold and unyielding. 

The leather was strapped around and buckled until Hisoka could barely move. 

“How do you feel?” 

“Peachy.” 

Chrollo lifted his head and made deliberate eye contact. Hisoka didn’t shy away, but Chrollo could see his ears slowly start to redden. 

“Alright,” Chrollo said softly, “good.” 

“Now what?” Hisoka asked. Chrollo held up a finger and reached behind him, producing a large cylindrical item that Hisoka recognized immediately.

“A fleshlight?” Hisoka asked with a snort. “That’s a little lazy isn’t it?” 

“Very lazy,” Chrollo agreed. As he said it, he flicked open a bottle of lube and squirted a slightly excessive amount directly into the fleshlight, and then a more conservative amount onto his own hand. 

“Hisoka,” Chrollo said firmly. “When we met at the club,” his hand descended down, slicking Hisoka’s half-hard cock up with lube. Hisoka’s stomach clenched and his ankles strained at the leather. 

“You said that you were open to trying edging.” 

Hisoka’s stomach dropped. He didn’t know why. He had every opportunity to ask to stop, every opportunity to control what was about to happen. Still, maybe it was Chrollo’s voice, or the way his ankles and his wrists were immobilized, but it felt like things were about to  _ happen  _ to him. 

“Yeah,” Hisoka said finally. 

“I find that its a good place to start, if you’re new to scenes.” That was a little far from the truth. In actuality, Chrollo thought it was a good place to start for Hisoka, specifically. 

“It’s just--” Hisoka exhaled as Chrollo’s hand dragged up his length. He was fully hard and already aching slightly, which was both embarrassing and surprising. 

“It’s just holding off an orgasm, right?” 

“Close. I’m going to bring you to the edge--” Chrollo capitalized this with a twist of his hand, “and then stop.” 

“Great,” Hisoka breathed. 

“It is great,” Chrollo agreed, sounding smug. He could already tell that tonight was going to go well. Hisoka was staring him down with a coltish determination, brows lowered over his lovely eyes, cheeks already pink. 

Chrollo had slept with many beautiful people before, but Hisoka was the closest thing to a specimen that he had ever seen. For a few seconds, Chrollo let himself get lost in it, the way his stomach flexed, the way he held his chest and his shoulders, even the light splattering of freckles along his torso.

“Hey,” Hisoka said. 

When Chrollo didn’t answer, he clicked his tongue, the way someone would urge a horse into a trot. 

It was so rude--and arrogant--that Chrollo immediately felt his stomach curdle. 

“What, Hisoka?” 

“You were spacing out,” Hisoka said, expression indignant. 

“Don’t do that again. It’s rude.” 

“Christ, okay.” 

Chrollo felt his sourness melt away. 

_ One,  _ he thought a little evilly. 

Hisoka seemed to realize a moment later and laughed a little exasperatedly. 

“Damn, we’ve barely started and I already--wait, does  _ that _ count?” 

“No,  _ damn  _ is fine.” 

“How long are you going to…  _ edge _ me for?” Hisoka was staring down at himself, at the way his cock bobbed against his stomach and the way Chrollo’s hand closed around it in a slick, hot grip. 

“Not too long. I don’t want to decide on a time until I see how you handle it.”

The determined little furrow in Hisoka’s brow that followed was so endearing that Chrollo almost wanted to scrap the whole night and let him come within a minute. 

But no, that would be a waste. 

“Tell me when you’re close, Hisoka.”

Hisoka nodded tightly, eyes screwed shut. He seemed to be focusing, hips rolling into Chrollo’s hand. 

“You haven’t used to fleshlight yet,” he croaked. 

“No,” Chrollo agreed. 

“Will you?” 

“Be quiet.” 

For a few minutes, the only sounds in the room were Hisoka’s slightly labored breathing and the wet, squelching sounds of Chrollo’s hand on Hisoka’s cock. 

“It’s pretty,” Chrollo said suddenly, without even meaning to. He pressed his pointer finger to the tip of Hisoka’s cock and pulled it away from his body. 

Hisoka whimpered. 

“I think I’m close.” 

“No, you’re not,” Chrollo said. 

“I am, I am, I am,” Hisoka promised, eyes still closed. Chrollo’s grip tightened and his pace quickened. Hisoka had forgotten, already, about the fleshlight, and about everything else. 

He was going to come, he was so close. He almost wanted to laugh. Chrollo’s hand was  _ still  _ on him, there was no way he’d be able to cut his orgasm off. 

Hisoka’s hips jerked frantically. 

“ _ Chro-- _ ” And just as he felt the pressure in his cock reach a tipping point, the contact around his head was abruptly dragged down and tightened into a ring around the base of his cock. 

So this was edging.

“Jesus  _ fucking  _ Christ,” Hisoka gasped. His chest pitched forward only to be forced back by his cuffed hands. 

“That’s two,” Chrollo said quietly. 

Hisoka’s thighs tried and failed to close. 

It felt awful, like he was reliving the worst two seconds of a rollercoaster. 

After a few seconds, Chrollo’s grip at Hisoka’s base loosened, and he ran a finger up the length of him, eyeing the bead of precum that had appeared at his tip. 

“Color?” 

“I didn’t like that,” Hisoka panted. “It didn’t feel good.” Chrollo had never seen him look like this: cheeks burning red, brows knitted in consternation. Hisoka ran his tongue over his bottom lip and winced as tremors wracked his body, like an overexcited dog held back by the collar. 

“No, I shouldn’t think so. Color?” 

“Uh, uhm green.” 

“Excellent.” And without warning, Chrollo hefted the fleshlight into his hand and brought it down onto Hisoka’s cock in one smooth motion. 

Hisoka choked. 

“ _ So _ lazy, I know,” Chrollo said, sounding very pleased with himself. Hisoka let his head fall all the way back, only to bring it forward again, letting his chin hit his chest. His hips made tiny circles, the most movement he could manage. 

“I’m close again, Chro, Chro, I’m close.” Chrollo’s hand faltered ever so slightly at the nickname, a blush creeping up the back of his neck. 

He didn’t even need to move the fleshlight. Hisoka was doing most of the work himself. 

But, when his stomach went concave and a low, desperate groan ripped from his throat, Chrollo knew to pull it away. 

He didn’t hold him this time, just let him ride out the would-be orgasm. 

Evidently, this was worse. 

The noise Hisoka made was the closest thing to a sob that Chrollo had ever heard from him.

He wasn’t so far gone as to make a huge fuss, but Chrollo could see that his eyes were smarting, and he had already racked up five more curses to add to the first two. 

“H-how much longer?” 

Hisoka’s cock was red and glistening. A lot of his body, actually, was red: his chest, his face, his ears. 

Chrollo checked the clock behind him. It’d been nearly thirty minutes, which was good for it being his first time. 

“Few more minutes,” he said. 

Hisoka groaned pitifully. 

“Color?” 

“ _ Green _ ,” he hissed.

“Okay,” Chrollo said lightly. 

“Can I please come?” Hisoka gritted out, head lifting to reveal flushed cheeks and bitten lips. Every part of him was either pink or slick with sweat, hair mussed, the muscles in his legs straining against the chair. 

As Chrollo had suspected, Hisoka was not very familiar with being  _ denied  _ orgasm, he wasn’t very familiar with being denied in general. Never, Chrollo figured, had Hisoka ever even been in the position where he was not in total control. 

It was a little exhilarating, like Chrollo was unlocking a part of Hisoka no one had been able to before, like he was touching skin that hadn’t been touched. 

Unable to stop himself, Chrollo leaned forward, his elbows on Hisoka’s trembling thighs, and kissed him, slow, deep, leisurely, like Hisoka wasn’t squirming underneath him, making the most annoying, needy sounds he’d ever heard. 

“Hisoka,” he mumbled against his mouth, “shut up.” 

“Jesus  _ Christ, let me come. _ ” 

“That’s eight,” Chrollo said, biting at his lip. 

“ _ You’re  _ eight,” Hisoka threw back drowsily. 

“Mhm.” 

“I’m so… close.” 

“Let’s get you there then,” Chrollo whispered. He adjusted his grip on the fleshlight and brought it down again, this time, circling it just over the head of Hisoka’s cock. 

Hisoka whimpered and his stomach rolled. He tried, presumably, to reach out and touch himself but he only succeeded in rattling his cuffs viciously loud. 

Chrollo took pity and fully lowered the fleshlight into his cock, all the way down to the base. Hisoka groaned like he had just been allowed to breathe. In careful, controlled movements, Chrollo brought the fleshlight up and down, simulating the way a person would bounce on his cock. It seemed to be working the way it was intended. 

Hisoka’s eyes were closed and he was grinding his hips upwards, mumbling little pleas that Chrollo wasn’t sure he was meant to hear. 

Hisoka’s body rolled almost artfully, the ridged surface of his stomach expanding and contracting. 

“Close, close, close.” 

“Good, Hisoka.” 

“ _ Close--”  _

“I know.” 

Hisoka’s mouth opened again, but before he could spit anything out, Chrollo caught him in another kiss. He liked kissing Hisoka. He was really good at it, like they’d kissed many times before. 

“ _ I think I’m gonna--”  _

“Yes,” Chrollo breathed. His grip on the fleshlight was loose, barely there. Hisoka was doing all the work. 

“ _ I’m gonna--”  _

And then he came, body pitching forward, head dropping to his chin. Chrollo twisted the fleshlight and watched Hisoka’s face screw up with pinpoints of too-much pleasure. 

“It’s done right? Yeah?” Hisoka asked a minute into his come down. Already he was limp against the chair, smiling a little dazedly. 

“You’re done,” Chrollo agreed. 

“Thank the fucking lord.” 

“ _ Nine _ .” The number came like a slap to the face. Hisoka sat upright in the chair, cuffs rattling. 

“You said we were done.” 

“With the first part,” Chrollo corrected, looking a little bit bored. 

“You  _ lied _ .” 

“I told you at the beginning there was a punishment part.” 

“That whole thing felt like a punishment,” but even as he said it, Hisoka knew he was lying. It didn’t feel like that at all, it felt like a gift. 

“Since we started a little over a half hour ago, you used the lord’s name in vain nine times.” 

“ _ Kill me _ .” 

“That’s nine Hail Mary’s, Hisoka,” Chrollo added, voice heavy with disappointment. Hisoka felt a groan of protest bubble up in his chest without his permission. His head fell back, exposing the pale column of his throat, and Chrollo fought every urge to wrap his fingers around it. 

“So what,” Hisoka croaked after a moment of silence, “you’re gonna hit me?” Instead of answering, Chrollo undid Hisoka’s cuffed wrists.

“Can you stand?” He asked.

“Yeah.” Hisoka stood and immediately faltered, reaching out blindly to grab Chrollo’s shoulder for support. 

“Dizzy,” he gasped. 

“Sit on the bed, I’ll get some water.” 

Hisoka didn’t sit, he sprawled, sighing contentedly as Chrollo took the glass pitcher by his bedside and poured a full glass of water. 

“How do you feel?” 

“ _ Good _ ,” Hisoka said. 

“Good,” Chrollo replied, sounding pleased. He held the glass of water over Hisoka’s face and Hisoka sat up on his elbows to drink it. 

“Do you want to keep going?” 

Hisoka stared Chrollo down with hooded eyes. 

“Will I like it?” 

“I don’t know,” Chrollo said honestly. “Though, if I had to guess, yes.” 

“We can stop at any time, though.” 

“Of course.” 

“Okay.” 

With that, Chrollo went to the chair they had been set up at and fetched the cuffs. He saw Hisoka’s nose wrinkle at the sight of them. 

Chrollo paused, expression frozen in thought, and then he went into his closet. 

“Hold on,” he called. 

Hisoka fought back a delighted shiver at the thought of what Chrollo could possibly be grabbing in that closet of his. 

When he returned, a minute later, the cuffs were gone and in his hands, instead, was a buckled leather sleeve. 

Hisoka balked. 

“What’s that?” 

“It’ll keep your hands out of the way,” Chrollo explained.

“Out of the way for what?” 

“You’ll see,” Chrollo said, mouth twitching a little at Hisoka’s curiosity. “Roll over.” 

Hisoka’s eyes narrowed. 

“Why?” 

“Because I told you to, Hisoka,” Chrollo said coolly. Hisoka’s narrow eyes went wide. Slowly, he rolled over onto his stomach. Chrollo wasn’t sure if he was doing it purposefully or not, but the slight angle at which his hips were canted was making his body look--if possible--even more perfect. For a brief moment, Chrollo felt horrendously out of his depth, like he was fucking Hisoka on financial aid. 

“Hands behind your back,” he rasped, eyeing the endless expanse of Hisoka’s shoulders, the way that broadness dipped into a knobbed spine, tiny waist, a lower back punctuated by dimples of venus. 

“And now grab your opposite elbows with your hands.” He watched silently as Hisoka tried. He only got one elbow. The other hand was grabbing more at his bicep, but it was good enough. 

Hisoka flinched as he felt the cool, smooth press of leather to his forearms. He could hear the sound of the buckles clanging as Chrollo fiddled with them. Slowly, the loose leather sleeve got tighter as each strap was tightened, until, by the end of it, Hisoka couldn’t move his forearms, could barely move his arms at all. His shoulders were already a little sore from it and for some reason, everything in his head was going fuzzy. 

He felt a bit like he was dreaming. 

“How does it feel?” Chrollo asked. His voice was nice again. 

“Shoulders hurt,” Hisoka rasped. It was hard to speak. 

“It’s normal for them to be a little sore. Tell me if it gets too much, though, okay?” 

“I don’t mind it,” Hisoka said distantly. He hadn’t meant to say it outloud, and Chrollo must have noticed that, because Hisoka suddenly felt a hand in his hair, stroking soothingly. 

“Alright,” Chrollo said to himself. He grabbed Hisoka’s hips and maneuvered his lower body so that it was laying across his lap. 

Hisoka felt a jolt of electricity run through him. 

Oh, right. He was being “punished”. 

“Do you remember what I said? About the Hail Mary’s?” 

“Nine,” Hisoka said hoarsely. 

“Yes, you have nine.”

“I don’t remember it being that many.” He was new at this, Chrollo had to remind himself. 

“Do you think I’m lying?” Chrollo asked, leaning over Hisoka and lowering his head so that they were nearly eye-to-eye. Hisoka glanced sideways at him, brows furrowed. 

“No.” 

“Then, like I said, nine.” 

“Nine,” Hisoka whispered. 

“And Hisoka,” Chrollo added, smoothing a hand down his backside and watching the way his closer thigh twitched, involuntarily. “Don’t do that again.” 

“Okay.” 

“Why don’t you go ahead and start?” 

“Hail Mary--” 

_ Smack! _

Hisoka was proud of himself for biting back his yelp when it came. Jesus Christ. Jesus Fucking Christ. 

“Color?” Chrollo asked, rubbing a circle into the searing spot on Hisoka’s ass. 

“That  _ hurt, _ ” Hisoka hissed, but even as he said it, he found himself feigning offense. It  _ did _ hurt, and he  _ did _ want it to stop, but it was in a far off way that didn’t connect to reality. 

The thought of stopping was far less attractive than the thought of going on. 

“Hisoka, if--” 

“Green, green, m’just saying, you’re stronger than you--” 

“Hisoka,” Chrollo said again. He said his name a lot, and usually, whenever people did that, Hisoka preened at it, but for some reason, now, it was like the lash of a whip. It made him want to flinch. 

“Stop talking. When I ask for a color, you give it.” 

“I did,” Hisoka pointed out, but his voice was almost slurred. 

“Keep going.” 

Oh, that’s right. The fucking Hail Mary. 

“Full of grace, the Lord--” Another smack, just as hard, on the other cheek. Hisoka bit against Chrollo’s duvet, growled out his pain, and then kept going. “Is-is with thee. Blessed art thou among women--” Three more hits in quick succession. 

These had Hisoka reeling. 

“ _ I don’t think I’m gonna last for nine, Chro--”  _ His voice sounded bleary, weak. He was beginning to feel disgusted with himself and Chrollo leaning over his back like he was about to bite his nape wasn’t helping. 

“Then you need to talk faster.” 

“I don’t--I don’t…” 

“I’ll help you,” Chrollo said, and finally, his voice was kind again. Maybe the panic in Hisoka’s voice had actually registered. 

“Say it with me,  _ and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus.”  _

Hisoka opened his mouth and was rewarded with another two hits. These overlapped directly on top of what was already sure to be a bruise. Hisoka had never thought of spanking as being… damaging, but the skin felt so hot it might split, and he knew he’d be sore in the days after. 

Vaguely, he thought of the possibility of stopping. It hurt, and more than that, it was  _ embarrassing _ . He didn’t like the way his head felt, like he’d smoked so much he was greened out, like someone was holding him facedown in a swimming pool. 

Chrollo was actually holding him face down now, a weirdly strong hand digging into the back of his scalp. 

“Keep going,” Chrollo said softly. Very soft. Hisoka liked the kindness now, when it was held up against the meanness. 

He stuttered out the rest of the first Hail Mary and immediately went limp in Chrollo’s lap, chest heaving. His ass was burning. 

The discomfort was even worse now than when it had actually been happening. 

When he finished the second, he felt a hand slide up his spine and then back down to his upper thigh. The not-hitting was almost as bad as the hitting. He was so on edge he could feel his pulse in his throat. 

“Another,” Chrollo said. 

Hisoka felt his hand creep along his inner thigh and squeeze. Slowly, because he was slow right now, he realized it was a soothing gesture, an attempt at comfort, and unfortunately, it worked. Hisoka felt the tension leave his shoulders--he’d been holding them so tightly without even realizing. 

“I’ve never seen a novice handle something like this so well.” Chrollo’s voice was a whisper. In the back of his mind, Hisoka knew that what Chrollo was doing right now was slightly manipulative. He was preying on the part of Hisoka that liked being complimented. 

But Hisoka couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Chrollo could stroke his ego as long as he liked; God knew it needed it right now. 

“...pray for us sinners. Now-now and at--” Chrollo’s hand cracked down again on his ass. Hisoka’s hips jolted and then he tried, and failed, to twist away, hiding the surface of ass against Chrollo’s stomach. 

Chrollo very calmly and firmly turned his hips back, flat against his lap. 

“Keep going, Hisoka,” he murmured. 

“-- at the hour of death. Amen,” Hisoka croaked.

“Three down,” Chrollo said, raising his hand to strike again. 

“Hail Mary. Full of-- _ Chrollo-- _ full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art--” Another smack, harder. 

Hisoka’s back arched and he let out a howling sob. 

_ “Chro, don’t think I can--don’t think--”  _

“Color?” Chrollo was rubbing circles into the bright red skin of Hisoka’s ass, his other hand still dug into Hisoka’s hair. 

“Hisoka, color, now,” Chrollo said again, firmly. 

“Guhhhh, green, green,” Hisoka groaned, face buried in the mattress. 

“You can say yellow, or red, you know.” 

“ _ Green.”  _

“Okay, then keep going.” To punctuate it, Chrollo dug his fingers into the meaty part of Hisoka’s inner thigh and held his head down as he squealed. 

_ “I don’t remember where I left off,”  _ Hisoka half-snarled, voice muffled. 

“Start over then,” Chrollo said smoothly. 

“Hail-Hail Mary…” 

* * *

Hisoka didn’t even make it through the nine Hail Mary’s. He dissolved into shuddering blubbers, head shaking with every crack of Chrollo’s hand. He kept trying to twist away, hands flexing against the leather restraint, thighs clamping together to brace for the pain. 

He got half-way through the seventh Hail Mary, which was when Chrollo stopped, kissed a line up Hisoka’s spine and let him roll off his lap and onto the bed, on his back now. 

He tried to rub his tears off with his shoulder, but the cuffs were just a tad too limiting. 

Despite it all, he was outrageously hard. 

Chrollo took a lazy pump of lube from his bedside and stroked Hisoka with his hand a few times. 

“It really is pretty,” Chrollo said absently, thumb tracing a vein running up the underside of Hisoka’s cock. 

“ _ Yeah,”  _ Hisoka croaked, any semblance of his earlier confidence just smoke in the wind. 

“So, Hisoka,” Chrollo murmured, conversational, light, “you only gave me seven and half Hail Mary’s.” 

“For  _ fucks’--”  _

“I’ll round it up to eight since you’re new at this, but I still need one more.” Hisoka leveled Chrollo with a half-hearted glare, lashes all clumped together. His ears were bright red, to match his cheeks, and the awkward way the cuffs were keeping his arms behind his back was pushing his chest up like an invitation.

“Hail Mary,” Hisoka began, exasperated. Chrollo wetted his hand with a little bit more lube, tightened it into a fist, and circled it around the head of Hisoka’s cock. 

“ _ Ah _ ,” Hisoka gasped, hips jerking up. “Do I keep--” 

“Keep going,” Chrollo agreed. “For your sake, I sure hope you’re close. My hand is getting tired.” Chrollo could see the exact moment his words registered, the way Hisoka’s stomach contracted, each abdominal muscle pressing up into his skin in sharp relief, the way his shoulders strained at the cuffs, how his eyes went a little wider behind a film of tears. 

“Okay, okay,” Hisoka gasped, jerking his hip consistently now. 

“One more Hail Mary, Hisoka.” Hisoka’s eyes welled up and his expression tightened with panic.

“Hail Mary. Full of-- _ fuuck, keep going, keep going.”  _

“Hisoka, you stop again and we’re done.” 

“ _ Okay, okay, okay,  _ full of grace, the Lord is with thee.” 

Hisoka hiccuped, and it sounded dangerously close to a sob. 

“Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit--the fruit--” Hisoka’s thighs clamped together, head lolling to one side. Chrollo braced an elbow between his knees and spread them again, holding the inside of knee down with his free hand as he continued to stroke Hisoka. 

He could tell he was close, and not just because he was tripping over the words. 

His whole body was flexing: the muscles in his hips and quads were tight, like he was actually fucking someone, not just Chrollo’s hand. 

Not for the first time, Chrollo considered the possibilities, riding Hisoka as he drooled around a gag, watching him fuck someone else, head jerked back by a collar and leash. 

“Almost there, Hisoka,” Chrollo whispered, taking pity. Hisoka was properly gone now, eyes a bleary mess, mouth parting and closing like a fish. He was stuttering out the last lines, chest heaving with sensation.

“Almost,” Chrollo said again, and he found himself cheering Hisoka on. 

_ Come on, come on, it’s going to feel so good. You deserve it.  _

“... _ at--at the hour of… of our death. Oh God, oh God--”  _

Hisoka came with a high, involuntary moan, knees coming together, neck and stomach and legs tensing. 

He splattered over his own stomach, over Chrollo’s hand, coming for what seemed like minutes. 

“Amen,” Chrollo murmured, transfixed, as Hisoka fell limp like a marionette cut free from its master. 

* * *

In the moments after his orgasm, Hisoka felt sensation creep back into his body. His ass burned, his shoulders ached from the sleeve restraint, and pleasure was still making the nerves in his stomach twitch.

He winced when Chrollo stroked him once more, eyes cracking open to reveal glimmering, exhausted gold. 

“Well done,” Chrollo whispered, genuine as he’d ever been. “I’m impressed, really.” 

Hisoka made a soft sound from his throat. 

Chrollo rubbed his outer thigh. 

“Let me take the restraint off then you can relax.” 

Hisoka didn’t reply verbally, but he gave a little twitch of the head that Chrollo took to be a nod. 

It took some maneuvering: Hisoka was heavy and limp and his wrists were underneath him, but Chrollo managed to undo them, rubbing the red, irritated skin as gingerly as possible, before dropping the leather on his bedside table. 

With that done, Chrollo leaned over Hisoka, brushed the hair away from his eyes and kissed him there, right between his brows. 

“How was that?” 

Hisoka, once again, didn’t respond verbally, but he nodded sleepily, lips lifted up into a satisfied smile. 

Chrollo pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth. When he tried to pull away, however, Hisoka dug a soft, warm hand into the hair at the back of his neck and opened his mouth in a feeble attempt at a real kiss. 

Chrollo obliged, sighing happily out of his nose. 

He pulled away a few minutes later, a little dazed now himself. 

Hisoka shifted to curl up on his side, to avoid putting pressure on his bruising ass. He just lied there, eyes half-closed, breathing finally starting to slow. Chrollo wanted to let him doze--he looked  _ exhausted _ \--but he also knew he’d wake up feeling even worse if he wasn’t clean. 

“Come on,” Chrollo said, gently tugging at Hisoka’s arm. “Rinse off in the shower real quick.” 

Hisoka grunted in protest. 

“If I was strong enough to carry you I would, but you need to get up on your own,” Chrollo said amusedly. 

“You  _ are  _ strong enough,” Hisoka mumbled into the blankets. 

“You’re big, Hisoka. Just come on, it’ll be so quick.” 

“Can’t move.” 

“You  _ can _ ,” Chrollo said, laughing now. When Hisoka made it clear he really was not moving, Chrollo gathered his strength and half-dragged, half-carried Hisoka into his ensuite. 

He turned on the shower with his foot and then dropped Hisoka onto the marble bench inside, holding him up by the shoulders. 

For a moment, they were eye to eye, one pair significantly less glazed than the other. 

Hisoka had slightly unbelievable eyes, a color that couldn’t be called anything but gold. 

They swam, honey sliding in the jar.

He leaned forward feebly, more of a sway than anything, and Chrollo met him with a kiss. 

“Shower and then you can nap.” 

“Okay,” Hisoka murmured. His eyes cracked open again and he sighed. 

“Hm, should I spend the night?” He asked himself. Chrollo opened his mouth, about to protest. He didn’t let people spend the night. He didn’t like waking up with someone else in his bed. 

“No,” Hisoka decided after a few seconds of musing, “I don’t want to know what he’s like in the morning. It’ll ruin everything.” 

Chrollo frowned. 

“But I will need a nap.” This time Hisoka  _ was  _ talking to him, expression glowing with a very pleasant tiredness.

“I was expecting that.” 

“Okay, good,” Hisoka said, sighing, eyes drifting closed. 

Chrollo pushed his damp hair back. 

“Hisoka?” 

“Hm?” 

“Are you okay to shower alone?” 

“‘Course.” 

“Okay, I’m going to go change the sheets.” 

“Okay,” Hisoka echoed. 

“Look at me,” Chrollo asked quietly, squatting in front of Hisoka, who was slumped against the tile wall, the water dousing him. 

Hisoka’s eyes slid over to look at him and one thin brow arched in expectation. 

“Yeah?” 

“I had a very good time. You were perfect.” 

Hisoka’s face flooded with color. His eyes stuttered out a blink. His mouth twitched. 

“Obviously,” he said, but it was weak. 

Chrollo smiled, close-mouthed. 

“Come to bed when you’re ready.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u so much for reading, as always, comments keep me going, even if i don't respond i read every one and hold it close to my chest!
> 
> until the next update, peace!
> 
> also twitter is here https://twitter.com/ohofcourses


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hisoka tries out sex, sans Chrollo. 
> 
> Chrollo and Hisoka have some spaghetti.

Carla owned a second home about two blocks from Hisoka’s apartment. She split her time between the city and a country home where her husband and children lived. She was an interior designer and so she needed to be in the city to meet with clients. 

At least, that was what she told her husband. 

Hisoka wasn’t overjoyed at the prospect of being a homewrecker, but he and Carla had been having sporadic, very enjoyable sex for nearly two years now. They were both the kind of people who  _ could  _ sit at a bar alone and wait for someone to approach them for a good time, but that took effort and it usually led to little more than subpar sex. 

This was easier. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,  _ Hisoka _ ,” Carla gasped. 

It wasn’t like they had boring sex. 

_ “Harder.”  _

It was good sex, Hisoka had to remind himself, even as his mind wandered. By any real metric, he and Chrollo had  _ barely  _ had sex. 

Hisoka had gotten a few handjobs, Chrollo got to hit him, that was it. 

But that didn’t explain why Hisoka couldn't stop thinking about it, the burn of an open palm against his skin, the awful, addicting feeling of an orgasm being conjured and then staved off. 

Carla wouldn’t do that, would she? 

_ “Hiso, touch me,”  _ she purred breathlessly. Hisoka reached under her belly, fingers grazing her navel, trailing down, until he could feel where his cock was buried halfway inside her. He moved a little bit up and began to rub in tiny, certain circles, lips trailing a lazy line up her spine. 

Carla melted like a pad of butter. 

“S’it feel good?” He murmured into her skin. 

_ You’re such a good boy.  _

Chrollo’s stupid fucking voice in his head again. It followed him into the shower, showed up every time he shoved his hands down his pants, and now it was here, interrupting him and Carla like an unwanted haunting.

“Keep going,” Carla begged. 

_ Are you close, Hisoka? _

“I’m close,” Carla hissed. 

_ Look at me, Hisoka.  _

Hisoka’s eyes screwed shut as his hips stuttered and jerked. He was going to come. He was about to come.

_ You have to ask for permission.  _

_ “ _ Hisoka _!”  _ Carla gasped, nails digging into his ribs, her head lolling back over his shoulder. 

_ Please can I fucking come.  _

_ Good boy. _

Hisoka came with a disbelieving groan, his one-armed grip on Carla’s waist loosening until she fell forward onto the bed. 

Carla rolled onto her back and Hisoka immediately collapsed on top of her, face burying in the crook of her sweet-smelling neck. 

“Oh--hi, darling,” she said breathlessly, blinking in surprise at the uncharacteristic affection. Hisoka panted against her skin, the shivers of an orgasm still running through him. 

They stayed like that for a few moments: Hisoka’s entire and very considerable weight plastered atop Carla, who was doing an admirable job of not wheezing. She rubbed his back in broad, soothing strokes. 

Eventually, Hisoka pulled himself up. He sat back on his knees, stretching his arms overhead and yawning. 

“I can’t stay,” Carla said, thighs shifting closed as she became aware of Hisoka watching his cum leak out of her. 

“You usually stay,” Hisoka said, trying not to sound irritated. Carla and him would make pancakes and eat them with their fingers and watch whatever show Carla was watching at the time. She would complain about her husband and text her friends, they’d nap, she’d leave. 

“Sorry, baby,” she said distractedly, rolling out of bed and immediately searching for her jeans. 

Hisoka rubbed at his forehead. 

He wasn’t really sure what he was trying to accomplish at this point. 

“Yeah, yeah okay.” He rooted around for some sweatpants so he could walk Carla to his front door. She was tugging her jeans up over her hips, humming to herself. 

_ Hey Carla, would you be interested in tying me up and calling me condescending names the next time we have sex?  _

Hisoka rubbed at his forehead again. 

“I’m ready--you okay?” 

“Just tired,” Hisoka replied quickly. Carla took a few steps forward, eyes narrowed. She scanned his face. 

“I’m a mother you know.” 

“You don’t let me forget it.” 

“I know when I’m being lied to.” 

“I’m totally fine, Carla.” 

“Are you seeing someone?” 

“Kind of.” The admission made his heart stutter. 

Carla’s expression broke open like an egg yolk. She smiled, clearly relieved. 

“That’s good, Hisoka. I’m glad you’ve found someone.” 

“It’s not--” 

“I was supposed to meet a client five minutes ago so I can’t hang out. Walk me to the door.” Without waiting, Carla started down the hall, heels clacking on the marble floors. She was on her phone again, chewing her lip with focus. 

Hisoka held the door open for her and accepted her big, wet kiss on the side of his cheek with a soft hum. 

“I’ll text you next time I’m in town,” she called. 

“Bye, Carla.” 

As soon as the door closed, Hisoka felt himself slump. 

He went back to the bedroom, rustled through the bedsheets for his phone and sent a text message. 

_ Hisoka: hey can I come over  _

_ Hisoka: please _

Chrollo replied almost immediately.

_ Chrollo: can u do 7 tonight?  _

_ Hisoka: yeah sure  _

_ Chrollo: perfect. See u soon _

* * *

In the month since they had started seeing each other, Hisoka had gone over to Chrollo’s apartment a little over a handful of times. He had to admit, Chrollo got pretty creative. They hadn’t had penetrative sex yet, but Hisoka had a feeling it would be coming soon. He had put it on his  _ maybe  _ list after all. 

His attire to visit Chrollo kept getting more and more relaxed, too. Hisoka wasn’t a celebrity, but he was certainly a public figure, and he didn’t want an unlucky picture of him slipping into Chrollo’s apartment circulating the internet. 

To remedy this, he wore his most inconspicuous sweatsuit and a pair of sunglasses big enough to hide most of his face. He slunk from his car to the lobby of Chrollo’s apartment like an alleycat. 

Chrollo always waited in the lobby, making polite conversation with the doorman. Hisoka liked that about Chrollo, the way he could talk blandly with just about anyone. Sometimes it was dog breeds or brackets to mount paintings or the new italian restaurant that just opened on the corner, but no matter what exactly the subject was, Chrollo was always able to navigate his way through unbelievably deftly. 

Hisoka still wasn’t sure if his interest was polite or genuine. Either were a little difficult for him to grasp as a concept. 

* * *

Hisoka made his usual dash to the lobby from the curb, nearly running into Chrollo, who blinked at him, and then smiled. 

“Come, come,” he said, tugging Hisoka along by the sleeve without formality. Chrollo was in his usual: wool slacks and a dark sweater. He kept a very long black coat hung up by the door in his apartment and Hisoka was deeply curious to see how he looked in it. 

It was far too interesting a garment to imagine Chrollo in. 

Hisoka led the way into Chrollo’s apartment, turning on his heel as soon as he was inside. Chrollo smiled again from the doorway. 

“You okay?” 

“Hm?” Hisoka asked. 

“Your text seemed urgent.” 

_ Can i come over _

_ Please  _

Hisoka smiled lopsidedly. 

“Just horny.” 

“Ah,” Chrollo said. 

“I like that coat.” 

Chrollo turned and looked where Hisoka had pointed, at his long black coat. 

“Oh, sharp isn’t it? I don’t usually go for something like that, and it was really expensive and I thought it was a little frivolous, but I think--” 

“It’s very nice.” 

“Thank you,” Chrollo said, sounding pleased. 

“We should get food after this so you can wear it.” 

“Food?” Chrollo echoed. 

“I will be hungry,” Hisoka said, nodding. 

“Okay.” 

“Cool, so what’re we doing?” Hisoka already felt miles better than how he did when Carla left. It was like being in Chrollo’s presence had recharged him. It probably didn’t help that he was already half-hard in his sweatpants. 

“Bedroom,” Chrollo said, marching very purposefully down the hallway. It was funny, and so Hisoka laughed, trailing after him lazily, hands shoved in his pockets. The closer he got, the stronger the smell became. 

Like something burning. 

“What--” 

Hisoka broke off as Chrollo opened the door. 

Dozens upon dozens of candles dotted Chrollo’s bedside tables and built-in shelves, tiny flickering flames casting long, wavering shadows on the walls. The dark red candles were slightly romantic, slightly ominous, and so were Chrollo’s new black sheets. 

It felt, in some very strange way, like Hisoka was walking into church. 

Chrollo leaned in very close to Hisoka, eyes wide, a little wild, even though his smile was kind, comforting.

“Hisoka,” he whispered. 

“Chrollo,” Hisoka whispered back, playing along. 

“Do you trust me?” 

The question took Hisoka aback. 

Did he? 

Certainly not in any deep, long-lasting way, but then, he trusted him with his body, more or less, and wasn’t that significant? 

Hisoka had had lots of sex, but he hadn’t done this before. 

“Yes,” he said slowly, feeling a bit like he would regret it. 

“Good,” Chrollo said, and Hisoka saw his pupils  _ quiver  _ with excitement. “You said to me, on our first time together, that you like pain.” 

“No blood,” Hisoka said quickly, faintly, but he realized, even as he said it, the thought of a blade pressed to his belly as a slick, gloved hand worked his dick over and-- _ no _ . 

No blood. 

“No blood,” Chrollo agreed, the candlelight dancing off his cheeks. 

“What, then?” 

“You said you trusted me. You said you like pain and that you trust me. You have your colors. If you’re okay to move forward, then I need you to use them.” 

“I want to,” Hisoka said quickly, too quickly, going by the shadow flitting over Chrollo’s face. 

“I’m going to get what we will need. Sit there and think about it.” 

“You won’t tell me what it is?” 

“No. If you aren’t comfortable going ahead with it, then we will do something else. I have lots of ideas.” 

“And if I do decide to do it, I can stop at any time?” Hisoka felt a little stupid asking this, but Chrollo didn’t treat it that way. He bobbed his head sincerely. 

“Of course, always. I’ll be back.” He disappeared into the dark of his closet. The door shut behind him and the light clicked on. 

Hisoka sat and he thought. 

Pain, pain, pain. He liked it in the way most people liked very sour candy. It was fun, but he didn’t want to eat it for dinner. 

The thought of actual pain, real, terrifying pain didn’t appeal to him all that much. Certainly not with someone he barely knew. 

But if it was bad, he could stop, and it wouldn’t be bad. For some reason, Hisoka had a feeling that beneath the bookshelves and the sweaters and the catholicism, Chrollo was just a very normal, tired guy who was about as brave as a squirrel. 

“I want to,” Hisoka said as Chrollo emerged with just a blindfold. 

Hisoka’s nose wrinkled.

“Boring.” 

Chrollo snorted and reached into his bedside table. Hisoka craned his neck to see what he was grabbing. At first, he mistook it for lube and his shoulders stiffened, and then, he realized what it actually was was baby oil. 

Huh. 

“Baby oil,” he said, unnecessarily. 

“Do you want to put it on yourself? Or do you want me to?” Chrollo’s voice was a little lower than usual, but still smooth. 

“Where?” 

“Everywhere.” 

Hisoka giggled like a madman. 

“Okay, I’ll do it.” 

Chrollo sat and watched as Hisoka gave himself the most pornographic rub down possible, and he wondered to himself, mostly idly, how on earth a person like Hisoka was made. 

“Okay, I’m done,” Hiskoka said, flopping onto the bed with a sigh, his whole body gleaming like a professional wrestler. 

Chrollo’s mouth went dry. 

“These sheets are new, right?” He asked, hands gliding over the black sateen. 

“Old, actually,” Chrollo said, “I’ve been meaning to throw them out.” 

“Really rolling out the red carpet for me, aren’t you?” 

“They’re going to get ruined.” Chrollo poked Hisoka’s stomach like he was chiding him and Hisoka flexed his abs comically. 

“I like the sound of that.” 

“Roll over,” Chrollo said amusedly. Hisoka’s nose scrunched.

“If I had a dime for every time you said that,” he grumbled. 

“You’d have two dimes,” Chrollo pointed out. 

“Shut up,” Hisoka said as he rolled over. For a few seconds, Chrollo didn’t say or do anything. Hisoka was pretty sure this was supposed to create suspense, and with the dozens of flickering candles and the new-old black bedding, he would be lying if he said it wasn’t working. 

“Are you--” Hisoka froze as the blindfold was slipped over his eyes and tied at the back of his head, tight. 

“How does it feel?” Chrollo’s voice was gentle but very firm. 

“Can’t see.”

“Ah, so it’s working then.”

It was moments like these that Hisoka wondered what it would be like to hang out with Chrollo outside of sex, to meet up at a restaurant, to go run errands, his book tucked under his armpit, staring sourly at the line at the grocery store. 

“I want you on your hands and knees facing the headboard.” Hisoka got himself up and waited. 

“How do you feel? What’s your color.” 

“Green,” Hisoka said easily. 

“What we’re going to be doing today,” Chrollo said, his voice very soft, “is an exercise in discipline. I didn’t tie you down or anything because I want to see if you can hold yourself still, okay?” 

“I’m very disciplined. My teachers disciplined me all the time at school.” 

Hisoka heard Chrollo huff out a laugh. He preened. 

“Good, alright.”

“Hey, Chrollo?” Hisoka asked, blindly swivelling his head. 

“Hey, Hisoka,” Chrollo replied. Hisoka heard him snap on what sounded like rubber gloves and giddiness shot through him. 

“I had sex with someone today.” 

“Oh,” Chrollo said.

“Do we have… rules? Should I not be doing that?” 

“You can do whatever you want,” Chrollo assured him neatly. 

“Have you had sex with other people?” Suddenly Chrollo’s hands were smoothing over his skin, sliding up his back, inside his thighs, over his ass. The cool rubber of the gloves felt impossibly good. They were the thin disposable kind, from a doctor’s office. 

“Not since I started with you.” 

“Am I special?” 

“You take up a lot of my attention,” Chrollo noted dryly. 

“I don’t think I’ll have sex with other people either,” Hisoka said, voice quieter now. 

“Whatever feels right.” 

_ Good boy.  _

Hisoka screwed his eyes shut, as if that would make Chrollo’s voice go away.

“Hisoka? I’m going to start now, but before I do, I want to reiterate that you can and should use your colors if you’re uncomfortable.” 

“You’re making it seem like you’re about to torture me.” 

“It’s not that bad,” Chrollo said to him. 

“Have you done it?”

“Yes.” 

“Did you cry?” 

“I don’t cry,” Chrollo said amusedly. 

“Okay,” Hisoka said, body stiffening like he had just come upon a decision. 

“Let’s do it.” 

* * *

“What--what are you doing?” Hisoka breathed. Chrollo rubbed his gloved hand between Hisoka’s legs again, pressing against his entrance deliberately. 

“Color?” 

“Green, but--” 

Hisoka cut himself off with a whine as his cock was grabbed and squeezed. 

“I don’t think I want to be fucked, Chrollo.” 

“I’m not going to fuck you,” Chrollo said. 

“Okay,” Hisoka breathed. He heard Chrollo grab something off the bedside table. He was almost certain it would be a paddle or a cane of some kind. This was going to hurt. 

He braced himself, elbows locking, stomach clenching. 

“Relax,” Chrollo instructed. 

“I am relaxed,” Hisoka lied. 

He was rewarded for it with a pinch to the thigh. 

“Stop lying to me. Breath in through your nose, out through--” 

White hot pain, a small splatter of it, hit the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. 

Hisoka  _ yelped _ . 

At first, it was so shocking and painful that his elbows almost gave out. He let out a slew of loud, heavy pants after. 

“ _ Hah, hah, hah, fuck, fuck.”  _ But as quickly as the pain came, it was gone, at least the initial intensity of it. He could still feel the burn, could still feel the hardening of what he now recognized as wax, but it wasn’t as bad. 

Oh, the candles, the fucking candles. 

“It’s not just ambiance lighting, then,” Hisoka managed with a weak laugh. 

“Color?” 

“Green, just took me by surprise.” 

“That’s the point.” 

“I wish I could see,” Hisoka said a little absently. He wasn’t sure why he said it. He knew the point was that he couldn’t. He guessed it was just something he wanted Chrollo to know.

“Okay,” Chrollo said, and it sounded like he was biting back a laugh. “I’m going to keep going.” 

  
  


* * *

“I’m not gonna come from this,” Hisoka panted. 

“Yeah, probably not,” Chrollo agreed. He adjusted himself in his pants. “You’re hard, though. That’s a good sign.” 

“It’s not enough-- _ haah.” _ Another few drops on his belly. Chrollo was slowly getting lower. Every so often, he’d drift back up to let the wax hit his nipples again, but he’d always come back down. 

Hisoka was picking up on his trajectory. 

“ _ No, no, not there,”  _ he groaned. 

“You’ll be fine,” Chrollo assured him. 

“I don’t think--I don’t think I can, Chrollo, I don’t want to.” 

Hisoka’s cock twitched against his stomach, leaving a tiny glistening spot of precum on his navel. The wax hit his pelvis and he ground his hips up, a strangled sound escaping his mouth. 

Chrollo couldn’t see his eyes, on account of the blindfold, but he could see his furrowed brow and he could see his hands curled against his thighs. 

He was nervous. 

“Why don’t we try it? Hm?”

“I don’t--” 

“We try it once and then we’ll move on. You liked it up here,” and as he said it, Chrollo brushed a thumb over Hisoka’s wax-covered nipple. 

Hisoka shuddered. 

Chrollo saw him smile nervously, the way that a dog bares its teeth, and then it was gone. 

“Color, Hisoka.” 

“Green, whatever.” 

“Not whatever, Hisoka, this is important.” 

“It won’t burn me?” Hisoka propped himself up on his elbows, wincing as the hardened wax pulled at his skin. He was still blindfolded, but he seemed to know exactly where to turn his head so that he was facing Chrollo. 

“Has it burned you anywhere else?” 

“No,” Hisoka admitted, flushing slightly. 

“Then assume it won’t here.” 

“I wish you had tied me down,” Hisoka said with a laugh. 

“I don’t,” Chrollo said simply, and it was true. It was nice seeing Hisoka try to actually listen. It was more gratifying to watch, even if it was harder for Hisoka. 

“Breathe--open your legs.” 

Hisoka whined and his legs fell open torturously slowly. 

“Breathe,” Chrollo said again. Hisoka took in a slow, shuddering breath. 

A few dark drops of wax fell in a stripe, first hitting the skin of his belly, then dripping over the head of his cock. 

Hisoka groaned gutturally. 

_ “Chrollo--fuck, fuck,”  _ he hissed. Chrollo caught his hand as it flew to his dick, pushing it back against the bed and tangling his fingers with Hisoka’s. 

_ “Sorry,”  _ Hisoka gasped, realizing his mistake. 

“It’s okay,” Chrollo said, “this is your first time doing this, and you’ve been good so far.” 

Chrollo saw Hisoka smile, quick and dazed. 

“If it helps, you can grab the headboard,” he said. 

“This is fine,” Hisoka said quietly, hands curling into the sheets. 

“Just a little more,” Chrollo said, though he wasn’t sure if that was actually true. 

“ _ Uhgh,  _ okay,” Hisoka said.

“You’re alright?” 

“It’s not that bad,” Hisoka admitted begrudgingly after exhaling shakily. Chrollo laughed. Without thinking, he tugged up the blindfold, his chest clenching as Hisoka’s glistening wet eyes blinked blearily. 

“Hi,” Chrollo said. 

“Hello,” Hisoka replied thickly. 

A little more wax, lower on his cock. 

Hisoka hissed, back arching, eyes fluttering shut, and then he was back, gaze locked challengingly with Chrollo’s. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Fucking obv--” Before Hisoka could finish, his jaw was being gripped by a vice-like hand. Chrollo squeezed his fingers, squishing Hisoka’s cheeks together. 

Hisoka’s brows drew together in an offended expression. 

His hands left the sheets and clutched Chrollo’s forearm, nails digging into the skin. He had the strength to pry Chrollo’s hand away but he didn’t. 

“Hisoka,” Chrollo said lowly. His eyes darted down to the candle he was holding. Hisoka followed his gaze. Melted wax was beading just under the wick, welling up like a tear. Chrollo tilted the candle perpendicular to Hisoka’s body and let it fall, a splatter of dark red wax hitting the head of Hisoka’s cock. 

Hisoka’s thighs clamped together and he keened, glittering gaze fixed back on Chrollo, his own eyes welling now, smarting like he’d been kicked in the shins. 

“Does it hurt?” Chrollo asked again, delicate. Hisoka seemed determined not to answer. 

“Open.” Chrollo tapped one of his thighs. Mechanically, they dropped open. 

Chrollo leaned back and took a moment to look at Hisoka, to properly look at him. 

His baby-oil-slick body was painted with dark red wax. The blindfold was still tugged up to his forehead, hair going in all directions. He wasn’t looking at Chrollo but at the ceiling, rather, throat bobbing with uncertainty. 

“Look at me,” Chrollo demanded. 

“I don’t want to,” Hisoka croaked. 

“Hisoka.” 

Shakily, he dropped his gaze to Chrollo and glared half-heartedly. 

“Just a little more,” Chrollo murmured, “and then we’ll get it off.” 

“How--” Hisoka swallowed. “How are you going to get it off?” 

Chrollo smiled, with teeth. 

The last pour of wax was the most, and the candle was held closer to his body, so the wax was hotter, took longer to harden. 

Hisoka properly cried out, body twisting as he fought to hold himself still. Chrollo helped out with a palm pressed flat against his hip. 

And then the searing heat turned to a kissing warmth and it was done. 

Hisoka went limp against the mattress, chest collapsing with a breath of relief. 

“Thank fucking god,” he wheezed. He lifted his head to look at Chrollo, but Chrollo was gone, and the closet door was open. Hisoka heard him rustling, and then he returned with something held behind his back. 

Hisoka smiled. 

“What’s that?” 

“There are a few ways to get hardened wax off the skin,” Chrollo said, sitting on the bed next to Hisoka and bringing round what he had been holding. 

Hisoka, in his addled state, took a few seconds to recognize it. When he did, his whole body stiffened, ice creeping in at the corners. 

“Uh,” he began, eyes narrowing suspiciously. 

“It’s a cane,” Chrollo explained patiently. 

“I know what it is,” Hisoka said, fighting back a snarl. 

Chrollo looked between the cane and Hisoka, brows furrowing in slow realization. 

“What are you thinking?” 

“I don’t like canes,” Hisoka said firmly. There was a coolness in his expression that Chrollo had never seen before, not even the night they had first met, when he had been doubtful and smug. 

“Okay,” Chrollo said, voice slow and careful. He set it down on the bed and didn’t miss the way Hisoka watched it, like it was a snake about to come to life. 

“Put it on the list,” Hisoka said, “the  _ no  _ list.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay.” Hisoka laid back again, sighing in a sort of tired way. 

Chrollo felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room. The candles still flickered delicately, painting a wheelhouse of oranges and reds on the planes of Hisoka’s body, but otherwise, the walls felt cool, drained of texture and familiarity, like a fluorescent light had just been flicked on, washing everything out. 

Chrollo took the cane and dropped it to the floor, forgotten. 

“Do you want to stop?” 

This time, Hisoka snorted, head lolling as he shook it. 

“No, I want to come.” 

The room got a bit smaller, a bit warmer. A breath Chrollo didn’t realize he’d been holding came from between his lips. 

“Okay, I can do that.” 

Hisoka propped himself up, mouth-half open, searching for a kiss, but Chrollo just reached and tugged his blindfold back down. 

“The wax will have to come off in the shower,” Chrollo said as he reached over Hisoka’s body to pump twice at the bottle of lube he kept at his bedside. 

Hisoka used to make rude comments about it until Chrollo treated him to a very dry, fast handjob.

Now, he was very gracious about it. 

Chrollo fit one of his clothed thighs between Hisoka’s legs, watching his half-covered face as some of the wax there cracked off. 

He kissed at Hisoka’s cheek, eliciting a flinch of surprise, and then kissed lower, trailing down his jaw to his slightly-sweaty neck and staying there. 

When the lube was deemed warm enough, Chrollo wrapped his hand around Hisoka’s length and gave a firm, purposeful tug. 

_ “Gah--”  _ The sound Hisoka made sounded absolutely involuntary, like it had been pulled up from his throat with a string. 

“Hisoka,” Chrollo whispered. 

“Chrollo,” Hisoka whispered back after a second, hips rolling, fucking his cock through Chrollo’s slippery hand. There was just barely enough pressure. 

“You said you fucked someone else today, right?” 

Hisoka half-sobbed. 

“It was a woman?” 

A short, delirious nod. 

“How did she feel?” And as he asked it, his grip got tighter, so tight he could feel Hisoka’s pulse in his cock. 

“Was she saying your name?” 

Hisoka could hardly think. He was picturing Carla now, but this time, Chrollo was there too, a hand in his hair as he thrusted, his dark, city-water eyes darting from his face to Carla’s. 

Carla was smiling, her wide mouth split, white teeth flashing. 

“Did you make her come?” 

Hisoka was  _ pretty  _ sure he had. 

Pretty sure. 

He was getting closer, anyways, stomach flexing like it was a workout. 

Chrollo was hunched over him, smiling sort of devilishly--very unbecoming for someone so pious. 

He was starting to move his hand, in slow, agonizing strokes, grip so tight he was almost staving off orgasm, except he wasn’t. It was building, building, building, cresting like an enormous wave. The wax dripped all over his body was hard, pulling at his skin in tiny, itchy bites. 

He wanted it off, and he said as much, in his own, garbling way. 

“I know,” Chrollo said, sounding very falsely sympathetic. Barely a minute later, a moan ripped from Hisoka's chest, his back arched, and he came messily all over Chrollo’s hand. 

“ _ Uh, uhn, uhnn…”  _

Hisoka’s head dropped against the mattress, eyes closing in exhaustion. He whimpered as Chrollo stroked him one last time, legs twitching with a desire to close, but Chrollo wasn’t planning on causing him more discomfort. He wiped his hand on the ruined sheets and subtly rubbed at his own erection just to relieve some pressure. 

He could finish himself off while Hisoka napped. 

He had learned after their second time that Hisoka absolutely needed to nap after a scene, and he wasn’t shy about it. There was none of that hesitance that Chrollo was used to with most of his guests, no needling about, no politeness. 

Hisoka tucked himself into Chrollo’s bed, fiddled with the thermostat remote on his table, and passed out for an hour and a half, mouth open like a toddler’s.

“How was that?” Chrollo asked, already knowing the answer. 

“I like candles,” Hisoka said. 

“I do, too.” 

Hisoka’s lazy gaze wandered down. 

“You’re hard.” 

“It happens,” Chrollo said with a shrug. This was a little bit of a lie. Chrollo was usually better about this kind of thing, but then, Chrollo was usually not doing a scene with someone like Hisoka, who was, whether you liked him or not, about as captivating as it got. 

“I can help,” Hisoka said, and if he had ears, they would be perked. 

Chrollo wasn’t thinking, but for once, that was very nice. Like an overeager teenager, he kicked off his pants and crawled up the bed until he was straddling Hisoka’s chest. 

He felt Hisoka stiffen as he registered what Chrollo was doing. 

“Color?” Chrollo asked softly, holding his cock in his hand, eyes closing at the sensation of Hisoka’s breath tickling it in hot little bursts. 

“Green, green, green,” Hisoka said, craning his neck forward to kitten lick at the head. 

Chrollo curled in on himself, hissing out a surprised sound. 

“ _ Hisoka--”  _

He could tell Hisoka was eager to show off his experience. He was straining against Chrollo’s grip in his hair, trying to swallow him down. 

“Just hold still,” Chrollo said, breathlessly. 

“I’m good at it,” Hisoka said, ignoring Chrollo very deliberately. Chrollo’s grip in his hair tightened and his chin was jerked back and up. 

“Hold still,” Chrollo said again, lower. 

Hisoka’s lip lifted into the beginnings of a snarl and then he sighed. He rested his hands on Chrollo’s thighs, thumbs sliding along the inner seams of his pants.

“You suck.” 

Chrollo opened his mouth to retort, but then he caught Hisoka’s gaze, and before either of them knew it, they were laughing. 

_ “You suck,”  _ Chrollo got out in between hysterics. Hisoka bucked up, nearly dislodging Chrollo from his seat on his chest. 

“Would you just let me suck you off before I fall asleep?” 

Chrollo laughed again, and he felt Hisoka’s responding chuckle in his chest. He reached out, brushed back Hisoka’s hair, which was mussed and sticking up in places with sweat, and bent over to kiss him, slow but sexless. 

No tongue, no hint of an open mouth. Just soft, warm lips pressed together like they were saying goodbye. 

“Yeah,” Chrollo said finally, still achingly hard. Hisoka grinned up at him, eyes blinking sleepily. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

* * *

“Hisoka?”

“ _ Hng _ .”

“Hey, Hisoka,” Chrollo whispered, shaking his shoulder. “You told me to wake you up so we can go out and eat.” 

“ _ Ugh.”  _

“Did you still want to go out? I can always order us food to eat here.” Hisoka’s nap had lasted longer than usual. He was still sprawled out in bed, his shoulder flush with Chrollo’s thigh. Chrollo was sitting in bed beside him, reading a book. 

“Less’go out,” Hisoka mumbled, sitting himself upright very slowly. 

“Okay, I’ll find a place that’s open.”

“Time izzit?”

“Half past eleven.” 

Hisoka didn’t reply after that but he nodded to show he’d heard. Chrollo watched him get out of bed at a snail’s pace and root around for his pants for an endearing few minutes.

“I’ll be ready soon,” Hisoka promised, though Chrollo very much doubted that. 

“I’ll find us a place.” 

Chrollo didn’t have to search for long. That new italian place he had spoken to the doorman about was open until two, as part of a promotion for their first week. It was slightly nicer than Hisoka’s sweatsuit suggested, but Chrollo didn’t think it would be a problem. 

He shoved his legs into jeans and grabbed a new sweater from his closet. 

“Your outfits are so boring,” Hisoka said around a yawn, shoving his feet into a pair of ridiculous designer mules. 

“Coming from you, that’s a relief.” 

Chrollo and Hisoka snuck through the apartment like there was a baby sleeping, the odd, late-ish hour making them as wary as country mice. 

Hisoka opened Chrollo’s front door and then stared pointedly at the long black coat hanging on the hook in the foyer. 

“Hm?” Chrollo asked. 

“Wear the coat.” 

“The coat?” 

“You said you would, when I got here. You said you would.” 

Chrollo sighed and tugged the coat off its hook. It was so long and black that it nearly swallowed him. He somehow managed to look both very cool and very adolescent in it, shoulders hunched in a self-conscious way. 

Hisoka ruffled his hand through Chrollo’s hair, and Chrollo jerked his head away with a curled lip. 

“Don’t do that.” 

“You look cute.” 

“You sound surprised.” 

“I am!” 

And then they were spilling into Chrollo’s old brass elevator. 

* * *

When they got to the restaurant, it was packed. The hostess smiled apologetically at the two of them and said they were full. 

Hisoka had Chrollo stand back and then he proceeded to flirt with the woman until she relinquished a tiny, charming booth by the window, perfect for two. 

“How’d you do that?” Chrollo asked, mystified. 

The hostess sat them down with a smile, eyes lingering over Hisoka, who beamed back. 

“It’s called people skills,” Hisoka said as she left. 

For the millionth time that night, Chrollo laughed, but this time, Hisoka did not join in. He stared on sourly. 

“It’s not funny.” 

“You have the  _ opposite  _ of people skills, Hisoka.”

“I disagree.” 

“You’re allowed to.” 

Hisoka didn’t answer but his mouth twitched in amusement.

“What are you having?” Chrollo asked, squinting at the menu. 

“Dunno,” Hisoka said, picking at a ciabatta roll absently. 

“Damn, I should have brought my glasses,” Chrollo said. He held the menu very close to his face, narrowing his eyes even more. 

“I’ll read it to you,” Hisoka offered, feeling uncharacteristically magnanimous. 

As he began to read the menu, he noticed Chrollo’s gaze had drifted from it to him. He was staring with his chin propped up on his hand, his big black coat draped over his shoulders. 

Tonight felt like a dream, a pocket of reality you could almost touch. Hisoka wasn’t sure why but the empty city streets and the furiously busy restaurant was making him feel like he’d been ripped from normal life, put in a play about italian food, and Chrollo was the only person who was real and not a character. 

He was real, inconceivably. Every tilt of his head, every puff of breath, the way he frowned when Hisoka butchered the pronunciation of an italian word. 

“I know what I want,” Chrollo said, sounding pleased with himself. 

“Hi, ready to order?” Their overeager waiter materialized at their table like a genie who’d been called upon. He leaned forward on the balls of his feet. Hisoka blinked blearily at him, unimpressed by his enthusiasm.

Chrollo ended up ordering for the both of them, at Hisoka’s request. As soon as the order was put in and the waiter was gone, Hisoka slumped forward onto the table, letting his chin rest on the sticky surface. 

“You look like an old dog on a porch,” Chrollo said. Hisoka’s brows lifted and then lowered. 

His half-eaten roll caught Chrollo’s eye so he ate it as he watched Hisoka react to the room around him. He was incredibly sensitive to movement and sound, Chrollo had come to realize. Whenever people walked by, talking or laughing, he could see Hisoka’s whole body twitch and stiffen, could see his eyes narrow and widen, flit after one person before gliding over to the next. 

It looked slightly exhausting. 

Chrollo wondered what Hisoka was looking for, if anything.

Their food came pretty quickly for how busy the restaurant was: pasta for both of them and a neapolitan pizza that was delivered on the wooden pizza peel they used to fetch it from the oven. 

Authentic, probably. 

As the night wore on, they sunk further and further into their booth, the conversation flowing idly from work to friends to sex. 

Chrollo was pleased to find that after a vigorous scene, much of Hisoka’s surface antagonism gave way to a more muted person, a Hisoka who did not nit-pick or tease. He became quieter, calmer. He was still sharp, still slightly unsettling in the way he moved, like an unbroken horse, but it was decidedly less troublesome. 

And though Chrollo would never assume what was going on in Hisoka’s head--God knew he would never truly understand--he felt that Hisoka liked it better this way too. It was a chance to relax, no posturing, no constant acerbity. 

It had to be a bit relieving.

“Should we head back?” Hisoka asked. 

He didn’t eat the crusts on his pizza. 

Chrollo reached over and ate them for him. 

“Are you ready?” 

“I’m about to pass out,” Hisoka admitted. “But this was good.” 

“I think so,” Chrollo agreed. 

They split the bill and then stumbled out of the restaurant into the bracing night air. 

Chrollo’s long coat fluttered as he walked. Hisoka kept leaning into him, his taller frame stooping like a wind-twisted tree. 

As they reached Chrollo’s apartment, Chrollo needed only to take one look at Hisoka before making a decision. 

“Stay with me. You’re too tired to leave now.” 

“I can uber,” Hisoka said around a yawn. 

“Spend the night,” Chrollo replied, looking up the length of his building and finding his bedroom window, distinguishable because the lights were on, “just spend the night.” 

* * *

Chrollo couldn’t remember how they got up to his apartment but the next thing he knew, they were stripping in exhausted tandem and collapsing together in Chrollo’s guest bedroom. 

The pair of them laid out and listened to the pipes in Chrollo’s building swallow down the rest of a neighbor’s shower. Chrollo’s guest bedroom was almost immaculate, save for a xerox printer on top of the desk and a filing cabinet just next to it. 

Hisoka sleepily watched the green light of the printer blink in and out of existence like a buoy at sea.

Chrollo was nodding off next to him. When he had taken off his clothes, Hisoka had realized with a jolt that this was the first time seeing him naked, or close to it, since that night they met at the club, when he had been hunched over, trembling, as an orgasm was worked through him with a vibe on his dick. 

Chrollo’s was not quite as built as Hisoka was--though who could be. He was still muscled, however, lean in an accidentally academic way, like he read too much to remember to eat. 

His shoulders were broad and silvery pale in the moonlight. 

Hisoka watched as he threw an arm behind his head, watched as his bicep bunched and lengthened, watched the boyish slope of his nose as his chin tilted back. 

With his eyes closed, he looked like a different person, younger and kinder. 

“Goodnight,” Chrollo mumbled, as if sensing Hisoka’s gaze. 

“Goodnight,” Hisoka replied, feeling his own self start to drift, slowly, slowly losing sight of the shore of consciousness until everything was black, save for the spot of red warmth where Chrollo’s ankle pressed to his calf. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thank u for reading!! i appreciate every single comment i read, they are my life's blood!!!
> 
> until the next update, peace!
> 
> my twitter: https://twitter.com/ohofcourses


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hisoka and Chrollo explore the wonders of technology :)

“Do you like scary movies?” All Chrollo could see of Hisoka through his phone was the tip of his lovely nose. After shifting the camera, it became clear he was lying on his stomach, his phone propped on his chest. 

Even with the unflattering angle, he didn’t have a double chin, which was irritating. 

“What, Hisoka?” 

“I’m really surprised you’re awake,” Hisoka said, “It’s nearly three.” 

“Work,” Chrollo said tersely, although that wasn’t true. He had tried going to sleep earlier but it wasn’t working. His mind wouldn’t rest, wouldn’t stop flitting from one torturous idea to another.

Instead of sleeping, he had grabbed one of his books off his nightstand and had tried slogging through a few pages. 

And then Hisoka called. 

“Do you like them?” 

“Hm?” 

“Scary movies.” 

“Oh, well--” 

“There’s one coming out tomorrow and I wanted to see it but all of my friends are scared.” Hisoka was staring very intently at the camera, but there wasn’t a hint of self-consciousness in the request, like he wasn’t nervous at all to hear Chrollo’s response. 

A little offensive.

“Machi’s brave.” 

“She said no,” Hisoka said with a genuine pout. 

“So what, I’m your second pick?” 

“Second? No.” 

“Yeah, yeah fine. I’ll come. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a horror movie.” Hisoka’s expression bordered on comical. He leaned even closer into the camera and stared Chrollo down for what felt like an eternity. 

“What’s wrong with you? Seriously, what is fucking wrong with you?” 

“I don’t watch a lot of movies.” 

“You’re messed up,” Hisoka decided, “like, genuinely messed up. You’re lucky you’re a good lay, Chrollo. I can’t stand your personality.” 

This time, It was Chrollo’s turn to look flabbergasted. 

“ _ My  _ personality?” 

“Don’t be like that.” 

Chrollo tapped his phone screen aggressively, three times. 

“You are crazy if you think you’re the one using me for sex.” 

“I am.” 

“ _ I am _ .” 

“Come see that movie with me tomorrow.” 

“I thought you couldn’t stand my personality?” Chrollo asked, finally, finally feeling like he was coming out on the winning side. 

“I want to see you piss yourself from fear.” 

“You are vile.” 

“The movie’s at eight pm tomorrow night. Do you want to come to my place a bit earlier than that?” 

Hisoka lifted both eyebrows in a lewd way. 

“When,” Chrollo asked, defeated

“Maybe come at five? Three hours is enough, right? I’ll need to nap after, as you know.”

“I’ll come at five,” Chrollo said with a sigh. Hisoka clapped both hands in delight. 

“See you!”

* * *

**One Week Later**

_ Feitan: can’t come today, soz.  _

_ Machi: Lame.  _

_ Chrollo: that’s alright Fei, hope all is well  _

_ Machi: Chrollo, let’s just go together. We can do that smoothie place  _

_ Chrollo: I’ve never been  _

_ Machi: Let’s do that then _

Three hours later, Chrollo found himself leaning over the front counter of a smoothie cafe. Machi ordered for the both of them, rattling off a daunting list of fruits and vegetables and powders to put in each of their smoothies. 

Chrollo was content to watch her. 

When the smoothies were ordered and paid for, they found a round table for four in the front corner, pressed up against the window. 

“So,” Machi said with a knowing look. “How is it going?” 

“Hisoka’s fine,” Chrollo said pleasantly. 

“I meant your life.” 

“Oh, that’s fine, too.” 

“Paku and I are doing great,” Machi said smugly, stretching both arms overhead. 

“I’m really glad,” Chrollo said, and it was genuine. A server brought them their smoothies--they were green. 

“Hisoka’s been so MIA, recently,” Machi said, sipping her smoothie with gusto. She was studying Chrollo’s face, as if he was withholding something. 

“Strange,” Chrollo said. 

“I mean, he usually is. The bastard is so flaky with responding to texts, it’s infuriating.” 

“Really?” 

That hadn’t been Chrollo’s experience at all. Come to think of it, Hisoka was startlingly reachable. He often texted first, but if he didn’t, he was still very quick to reply. The knowledge of that made a little bit of warmth stir in Chrollo’s belly. 

“What’re you smiling at?” Machi demanded. 

“Oh, nothing.” 

“So, you two are good?” 

“Really good, Machi. He’s not…” Chrollo pondered his word choice. “He’s not as terrible as he first seemed. He’s actually very personable.” 

“With what you two get up to, I’m sure it is.”

“No, it’s not like that,” Chrollo said, shaking his head. A woman standing outside the cafe leaned suddenly against the window, the butt of her jeans pressing against the glass. 

“We get dinner sometimes, after we have sex. He usually doesn’t spend the night, and if he does, he leaves early in the morning, but--” Chrollo took a sip of his smoothie and nearly gagged. 

“But?” 

“I think we like each other.” 

Machi gave him a look that was halfway between pitying and wary. 

“Chrollo…” 

“I know I sound stupid, but--” 

“He’s really not the kind of person you want to be doing this with.” 

“Well, it’s too late for that.” 

“I thought this was going to be casual sex,” she said, mouth twisting with displeasure. Chrollo’s hand tightened around his smoothie. He felt his brows pinch. 

“Yeah, well…” He leaned back in his chair and sighed, fixing Machi with a dull, assessing gaze. She stared back, undaunted. 

“I’ll treat it like it’s casual when he does,” Chrollo finished.

When Machi's smoothie was drained, they bid each other farewell, with a promise to get together soon. Machi looked very wary about leaving Chrollo. Her eyes darted all over his face, lips pursed. She was funny like that: pretending not to care at all until she cared so much it was smothering 

“Bye, Machi,” Chrollo said firmly, smiling. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, eyes narrowed. “Keep me updated. Use that fucking phone of yours.”

“I will.” 

He went straight back to his apartment from there, moseying along the street at a leisurely pace. He had an offensive pile of work to do back at home, but it was the kind of thing he could chip away at for the next week until it was less daunting. 

It was a nice day. Chrollo could count on one hand the number of clouds in the sky. It was warm, slightly breezy. Picnicking weather. 

When he got back to his apartment, Chrollo slid the dirty bowls on his counter into the sink, vowing to put them in the dishwasher sometime later, and then he collapsed onto the low, cushy leather chair in his living room and thought about Hisoka. 

He thought about him too much. He couldn’t go an hour without feeling that itch to text him, or even call him, just to hear him answer, his voice slightly bewildered but warm. 

Chrollo didn’t know what came over him, but for some reason, he grabbed his phone and opened Instagram. He himself had never made a post on Instagram, though Paku and Shalnark had done it in his stead many times, and he only went on it if one of his friends sent him a message. Even then, he was sporadic at answering. 

It wasn’t hard to find Hisoka. He had 5 million instagram followers, which was downright impossible for Chrollo to conceive at first, but as he scrolled through his account, he began to see why. 

The quality of most posts were almost editorial-level. A professional camera with a snowy city background, or a quintet of pink-blossomed cherry trees, or a custom marble kitchen. 

But then in others, it was a blurry snapshot: Hisoka and a tall woman with short dark hair--beautiful beyond reason--grinning into a camera like a pair of jackals. Chrollo was confused by these. They looked like they had been taken by a child, but as he scrolled through the comments, it came to him in blinks and flashes. This was  _ personality.  _ Hisoka was showing them what he was like, grinning in a selfie with a very calm-looking Shizuku who was holding what looked like the box for a sex swing. 

There was one shot of Machi and Hisoka sitting side-by-side at a table at a restaurant. The table was laden with gorgeous food, fresh-picked flowers, bloody mary’s piled high with slabs of bacon and celery and a row of tomatoes on a toothpick. 

Machi had Hisoka’s face in her hand and she was squishing his cheeks together. His nose was scrunched, she was smiling a rare, open-mouthed smile, eyes half-closed with delight. 

The photo was like a snapshot from a movie, a piece of life that wasn’t even real. It had Chrollo’s stomach in knots. 

When had Machi smiled like that? 

Who had taken that photo? 

In another post, Hisoka was in the snow. It was hard to tell where he was, but he was wearing snow pants and was totally shirtless, his bare torso pink from the cold. He was holding a snowboard that was hot pink and had a woman with her tongue sticking out on the back of it. 

Two unidentifiable figures were in the background bundled up to the neck. 

The comments were filled with complimentary emojis and comments from a few other verified accounts. Chrollo didn’t know who they were, but they seemed important. 

Chrollo stared at Hisoka’s exposed upper body for a few seconds longer and thought of all the people who had seen it. 

He wasn’t jealous at all, more evilly pleased. Hisoka’s body looked like  _ that  _ and Chrollo was more privy to it than anyone else right now. And more than that: all these people commenting on his photos thought they loved him, but Chrollo was one of the few who actually knew what Hisoka was like. 

He knew him. 

Chrollo set down his phone and let his head drop against the cushions of his couch. A shudder ran through his body. 

He should go on Instagram more often. 

* * *

It was starting to become noticeable, the amount of times Hisoka asked to come over. Chrollo was pretty sure they had seen each other six times in just the past two weeks, which was both alarming and impressive. 

_ Chrollo: are you free tonight?  _

_ Hisoka: let me check my schedule :)  _

Chrollo scowled. He knew Hisoka didn’t actually have a busy schedule, he just liked to make Chrollo wait. It took a few minutes for Hisoka to respond, which Chrollo was sure was a deliberate choice. 

_ Hisoka: tonight works <3  _

_ Chrollo: okay see you then _

“Chrollo!” 

“Coming.” 

“Chrollo! I’m here!” 

“Hisoka, I’m coming.” 

“Let me in!” 

Chrollo swung the door open and stared. 

Hisoka was standing very primly--heels pressed together like a dancer--and he was holding a large brown paper bag. 

“I brought food for after.” 

“Oh, that’s nice,” Chrollo said. Hisoka beamed and then let the smile drop off a moment later. It was grossly lacking in sincerity. He shouldered his way in and dropped the bag on the counter. 

“Your place is a mess,” he said. 

“Sorry.” 

“Do you have a cleaning lady?” 

“No,” Chrollo said, sounding mystified. 

“Well, what do you do when you need to clean?” 

“I invite my friends over for a get together and then they always end up cleaning the place after.” 

“You’re very manipulative, you know that?”   
“It’s not manipulative,” Chrollo said, sounding genuinely offended, “it’s a give and take.” Hisoka scoffed but he didn’t say anything contrary, he just put his hands on his hips and swiveled in one place. 

“Very messy,” he said to himself. On Chrollo’s couch, there was a smattering of papers and his open laptop. He was halfway through a long email about acquiring something, a relic, Hisoka assumed. And the pages scattered around the table and the couch looked like an array of articles and academic papers. It was a little daunting, seeing the breadth of Chrollo’s work, seeing the evidence of his faith and his knowledge. Hisoka didn’t know a lot of people like that.

One of his foster fathers had considered himself a man of God, but he had also made it his mission to interact with Hisoka as little as possible. As a result, religion had always seemed like a thing one did to keep busy and look good. 

“Come on,” Chrollo called, already half-way down the hall to the bedroom. 

Hisoka did one last lookover, eyes narrowing at the overturned couch cushions and the papers covering the coffee table, and then he followed Chrollo down the yawning length of his hallway, excitement setting into the pit of his stomach.

* * *

Chrollo was facing away from Hisoka, cross-legged on the bed. He looked small, young, his cheek resting on his palm, his elbow resting on his knee. 

He was holding a black box, about the size of a thick hardcover book, with knobs and a tiny digital screen. 

“Oh, I know what that is,” Hisoka said, peering over Chrollo’s shoulder. He sounded gleeful, like he had answered a teacher’s question before they had even asked it. 

“You do?” Chrollo asked sourly. Hisoka got the unique pleasure of watching all his earlier bravado totally desert him. He slumped, sighing at the machine sadly. 

“Do you know how it works?” 

Hisoka shook his head. 

“We used it in high school and college, before practices, but a trainer always did it for us.” 

“Oh,” Chrollo said, his good mood returning. “Perfect.” 

“Aren’t you gonna ask what sports I played?” 

“I don’t care.” 

“Aw, yeah you do.” Hisoka held out his hand and began counting off his fingers, “I swam and played football. I tried lacrosse. I was  _ begged  _ to try out for volleyball, because I am so tall--” Chrollo scoffed. “But, I needed a contact sport. My foster parents enrolled me in track and field,” and at this, Hisoka’s tone darkened and his eyes went narrow and Chrollo swore he felt  _ waves  _ of disdain pour off him. “But I didn’t like it very much.” 

“Were you any good?” 

“Oh, yeah, I was fast.” 

“Well, we’re going to be using this today,” Chrollo said, patting the clunky black box neatly. Hisoka’s gaze travelled over it. 

“Are you gonna put it on my dick or something?” 

“Stop asking questions,” Chrollo said tightly, in a way that led Hisoka to believe he would indeed be putting it on his dick. 

Hisoka understood the basics. The e-stim machine was used to stimulate muscles and nerves to reduce pain. It was a strange, buzzing feeling, with a slight magnetic pulse underneath. 

Hisoka wasn’t sure how Chrollo planned on weaponizing it, but he trusted his sense of creativity. 

“I’m going to tie you down onto the bed.” 

“Cool.” 

As Hisoka sat on the bed, he noticed a book on Chrollo’s bedside. Well, he actually noticed four, but the one that caught his attention was a large hardcover with the word  _ Avesta  _ on the front. He picked it up and rifled through. 

“What is this? Some kind of bible?” 

“You could say that,” Chrollo agreed. 

“Is this for your work too?” 

“Work and pleasure. I like religion.” 

“I noticed,” Hisoka said a little petulantly. “We’re not doing that today, right?” 

“Doing what?” 

“Your… God thing.” 

Chrollo smiled, a real smile, with teeth. 

“No, did you want to?” 

Hisoka shifted his weight on his feet. 

“I mean, I just thought it would be something we’d do more.” 

“We’re not doing that today but I’ll keep it in mind.” 

Chrollo had Hisoka lay down on the bed and began to restrain him at the wrists and ankles with thick nylon straps that wrapped under the mattress.

“You usually don’t do this,” Hisoka noted hoarsely. Chrollo ran the length of a blindfold over the webbing of his thumb and pointer finger. 

“Do what?” 

“The straps.” 

“Yeah, I don’t love full restraints, but sometimes they’re necessary.” 

“You think I’ll need them?” Hisoka asked. He sounded like a mix between excited and wary. He was already hard. His clothes were in a pile on the ground. For the first time in a long, long while, Chrollo wanted to participate in a scene, not just conduct it. He wanted to take his clothes off and press his body against Hisoka’s and feel the warm twitch of his thighs as he came. 

The blindfold was tied around Hisoka’s head tightly. With his eyes gone, things became easier. His blind head dropped against the pillow underneath it and stayed there, lolling to one side slightly. 

“I’m going to apply the pads for the e-stim now. It might be a little bit cold.” 

“Okay,” Hisoka said. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Hard.” 

Chrollo sighed. 

“Okay, one second.” He put the first two pads on his chest, one for each nipple. The remaining two were connected to the same machine but on a different outlet, which allowed the pair to buzz at a different setting if necessary. 

Chrollo pressed the first pad just under the head of Hisoka’s dick. He felt Hisoka flinch and then relax. It just felt cold, and a little sticky. 

The second one was placed lower than that, at a little above the base. 

“Alright?” 

“You haven’t done anything yet.” 

“Alright.” 

Chrollo set up the machine but he waited to turn it on. Hisoka seemed to sense his hesitance. 

“Getting cold feet?” 

“No.” 

“It’s okay to be nervous,” Hisoka said snidely. 

“Here’s the deal,” Chrollo said, ignoring him. “I’m going to turn these on in a minute. I will decide the intensity and the length.” 

Hisoka hummed. 

“ _ But _ , I’m going to put the machine in arm’s reach of you, so you are free to turn it down or stop it, if you can.” 

“I don’t know how to work it,” Hisoka said, throat bobbing. 

“Figure it out,” Chrollo replied evenly. 

“ _ Scary _ .” 

Chrollo didn’t think he’d ever actually be goaded by Hisoka’s teasing, but the effort was nice, sort of entertaining. If anything, he appreciated his consistency. 

“Going to start now,” Chrollo murmured. 

“Do your worst,” Hisoka said, letting out a shuddering breath: giddiness. 

Chrollo turned the machine onto a very low setting and watched a little wondrously as Hisoka’s entire body went rigid with muscle. He exhaled and laughed quietly. 

“Okay?” 

“ _ Weird _ ,” Hisoka said. He tugged a little at the wrist restraints, and tried, and failed, to bring his left leg up at the knee. It was a sort of restless movement, like he wanted more. 

“It doesn’t hurt?” 

Even with the blindfold, Chrollo could  _ see  _ his expression change: eyebrows rising in slight indignation, nose wrinkling. 

“It’s supposed to hurt?” 

Chrollo bit back a laugh. 

“No, it’s not.” 

“Because it just feels like a tingling buzz.” 

“That’s good.” 

“It doesn’t hurt.” 

“I’m happy for you, Hisoka.” 

Hisoka chuckled to himself. He was very hard, precum leaking on his belly. 

“It feels good?” 

“Mhm,” Hisoka said drowsily, like he was at a massage. 

“Keep your eyes open,” Chrollo chided. When Hisoka clearly didn’t, he pinched his thigh. 

“I said keep them open.” 

“How do you know my eyes aren’t open? I’m wearing a blindfold.” Hisoka’s voice was a little smug, a little sheepish. His hands were clenching and unclenching, like a runner’s would at the start of a long jog. 

“I can tell,” Chrollo said, which was true. Hisoka was not very good at  _ not  _ telegraphing himself. It was like he wanted people to know everything he was up to, a built-in disclaimer of sorts. 

“I’m going to start turning it up.” 

“Off you go,” Hisoka said. Chrollo’s mouth twitched. He twisted the dial, perhaps a little too much, and watched as Hisoka’s belly rippled. He gasped out a moan. 

It was only a matter of minutes before Hisoka began to seem restless. His head kept lifting off the pillow, only to drop back down heavily. 

“I’m not gonna last long--” 

“We just started,” Chrollo said, deliberately coloring his voice with disappointment. He knew this would be the most pleasurable part, a high intensity that wasn’t quite painful. Hisoka’s sweet spot. 

“I’m really-- _ uhng, ugh,  _ I’m gonna come soon,” Hisoka said. His tone was laced with panic, like he didn’t want it to end so quickly. 

“Feels too good?” Chrollo asked, rubbing circles in the skin of Hisoka’s belly. He was careful to avoid the quarter-sized spot of precum on his navel. 

Hisoka grunted in reluctant agreement.

Chrollo turned it up again. 

This time, Hisoka cried out, jerking furiously hard on the wrist restraints. He was so forceful that Chrollo became a little worried for the integrity of the straps. 

Hisoka wheezed out a slew of breaths, in the same way someone works themself through a panic attack, and then moaned, loud and unabashed. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“No, actually-- _ hnn _ \--I’ve been acting the whole time.” 

Chrollo turned it up again. Hisoka  _ wailed.  _ Chrollo could actually see the way his cock twitched under the e-stim pads, the way it bobbed like something alive. 

“Stop being rude.” 

“ _ Okay, okay, okay _ ,” Hisoka hissed. Chrollo lifted the controls box and dropped it down by Hisoka’s left hand. He grabbed his hand, biting back a strange sear of fondness at how sweaty it was, and pressed it to the side of the box. 

“Feel that?” 

Lower lip trembling, he nodded. 

“That’s the control box. Like I said in the beginning, if you can figure it out, you can turn it down.” 

“But, I--” 

At that moment, Chrollo turned it up by two, an insignificant amount normally, but with the intensity already being so high, the added sensation seemed to rake through Hisoka’s body with a vengeance. 

“Don’t argue, please.” Hisoka opened his mouth, like he wanted to do just that, but then he stopped himself. Chrollo squeezed at his hip. 

“ _ It’s too high,”  _ he rasped. 

“You’re fine,” Chrollo assured him. He turned it up by one more and immediately after, had to press his palm against Hisoka’s forehead so he didn’t lift totally off the mattress.

“Hisoka, let me remind you. You’re welcome to turn it down,” Chrollo said, raising his voice slightly over Hisoka’s sounds of protest. 

_ “I don’t--ung, ungh!”  _

“Hm?” 

_ “I don’t know how!”  _ Hisoka wailed. His hand trembled and fluttered over the controls, too afraid to touch them and make things worse. 

“Try.” 

“No, no,  _ no.”  _

Chrollo leaned over and rubbed Hisoka’s heaving stomach. Hisoka flinched, a movement that made the tendons in his neck flex, and then he relaxed into the touch. 

His pectoral muscles were twitching involuntarily from the electric stimulation. It was sort of mesmerizing to watch. 

Eventually, it became so unbearable that Hisoka did try to turn it down. Chrollo watched with cruel delight as his shaking hand descended on the controls. He was biting back cries, his breath coming out in short, wet little huffs. 

“If it gets really bad, I’ll stop it, Hisoka.” 

Hisoka skittered his hand over the machine until he found a dial and then sloppily turned it. 

Nothing happened. 

Chrollo saw the tension in Hisoka’s body briefly leave him, but the sensations of the e-stim pads brought it back a moment later. 

“Try again,” Chrollo said gently. Hisoka shook his head dazedly, hand lifting off the controls. 

“Okay,” Chrollo said, mostly to himself. He pressed four fingers against Hisoka’s cock, right below one of the stim pads. 

Hisoka arched as much as his restraints allowed. 

_ “Chro, Chro, Chro…”  _

“Does it hurt?” 

“No, it’s good, it’s good.” 

“Do you want to try it again? Try turning it down?” Chrollo had to fight to keep the giddiness out of his voice. He knew that if he wanted, he could just turn up the intensity himself, but there was something intoxicating about Hisoka doing it himself, especially unwittingly. 

He just wanted to see him sweat. 

Hisoka’s hand shakily scrabbled over the box, fingers grazing the controls. His chest was heaving and he had his lip curled like he was anticipating pain. 

He found one of the dials, the right one, Chrollo realized with a shiver, and turned it. 

The wrong way, however. 

Hisoka  _ screamed.  _ His hands curled into fists and his whole body bent like a bow. The control box was pushed aside, forgotten. 

“Okay, okay,” Chrollo murmured. “Relax, Hisoka. Breathe.” 

_ “Gah, hssh.”  _ The sounds he was making were pained. Each breath came like it had been punched out of him. 

Chrollo watched for a few seconds more and then turned down the dial by ten, so that it was even less lower than before. 

Hisoka fell limp on the mattress, cheek hitting the bed sheets, drool leaking freely from his half-parted mouth. Chrollo kept rubbing his stomach.

“That was well done. I know it hurts.” 

“ _ Hah…”  _ It was then that Chrollo discovered the blindfold Hisoka was wearing was plastered to his skin, clinging to the dips of his eye sockets and the bridge of his nose: wet, presumably from tears. 

“Would you like to keep going? Be honest, Hisoka.” Chrollo leaned in, brushing his thumb over Hisoka’s spit-soaked bottom lip. 

He croaked out a yes. 

“Good boy,” Chrollo said without meaning to. Hisoka’s reaction, however, was more than worth it. He basked in it, chin tilting upwards as his ears and chest pinkened considerably. 

Chrollo still turned down the e-stim machine by a little more, to ease him back into it. He set the box aside after and turned his attention to Hisoka’s body. 

His skin was redder than when they had started, red and covered in a sheen of sweat

His fingers grazed Hisoka’s twitching cock and then dipped down lower, and lower. Then, he pressed. 

He didn’t go in, but the pressure was enough for Hisoka to realize what he intended. 

His legs tried to clamp as much as they could and he groaned pitifully. 

“M’not a bottom.” 

“I’m not going to fuck you,” Chrollo pointed out, “just fingers. It’ll feel good.” 

Hisoka’s sightless head lifted and then dropped back against the pillows. 

“Do you finger yourself?” Chrollo added. Hisoka shook his head dazedly. 

“Have you bottomed before?”

“Used to,” he gasped out, stomach clenching. “Younger, I was a lot younger.” 

“It’s been a while, then,” Chrollo surmised. He had his other hand stroking up and down Hisoka’s inner thigh, broad strokes, warm and firm. 

“I’ll go slow.” 

Hisoka scoffed but it came out like a whimper. 

“You have your colors, Hisoka.” And with that, Chrollo took a quarter-sized dot of lube and began to spread it over his two fingers, warming it until it was comfortable. 

“It’s going to feel good, it’s going to distract you.” 

Chrollo reached for the control box with his dry hand and carefully turned up the intensity by two. 

Hisoka wailed, limbs straining against the restraints.

“Breathe,” Chrollo commanded as he turned it back down. Hisoka let out a shaky, shuddering breath--barely a breath, but good enough, and as soon as he did, Chrollo pressed in a finger. 

_ “Ah, ahh.”  _

“Pain?” 

“S’weird.” 

Chrollo pressed in until his palm was seated against Hisoka’s ass. He reached over and turned down the e-stim again, by two. 

He saw Hisoka visibly relax, head lolling. 

“How does your chest feel?” 

“It hurts,” Hisoka said. 

“Do you want me to take them off?” Chrollo, in all honesty, was just curious to see what Hisoka would do. He hadn’t been planning on being so merciful, but Hisoka had a strange way of reacting to pain and discomfort. It was both satisfying and gut-wrenching to watch. 

“Are you going to turn up the electrical--the intensity again? 

“Probably not,” Chrollo lied. 

“They can stay.” 

“You know,” Chrollo continued, working his finger in and out, “it’s not all or nothing with this. You can tell me things you prefer or don’t. I can make adjustments.” 

“That’s stupid,” Hisoka rasped. 

“M'kay.” 

Chrollo pressed another finger inside and this time, Hisoka became very tense. His fingers curled at the bedsheet and he let out a long string of pitched moans. 

“This one kind of hurts,” he admitted breathlessly. 

“That’s normal,” Chrollo soothed. “I’ll go slow. The pain will pass.” 

Chrollo saw Hisoka’s brows knit against the blindfold. He shook his head, though at what, Chrollo wasn’t sure. The e-stim was still going and even though the intensity had been turned down, it was still crushingly high. 

Hisoka tried over and over to bring his hands together, and each time, was stopped almost immediately by the taut restraints. Chrollo wasn’t sure why he kept trying, it was almost sad. 

Chrollo pressed until he found the spot he was looking for.

Hisoka jerked and then moaned, head tipping back languidly. 

“Prostate,” Chrollo explained a little breathlessly. 

“ _ S’good _ .” 

Chrollo turned down the e-stim machine a little more, focusing instead on bringing Hisoka to orgasm. He wasn’t sure if it would happen without an actual hand on his cock, but the e-stim was still buzzing away, and Hisoka was outrageously hard. 

“I wanna come,” he gasped, thighs flexing as Chrollo worked over his prostate. He was admittedly not very good at fingering people, but Hisoka did not seem to have the awareness or the experience to tell. His hips were rolling upwards, trying to fuck himself a little more on Chrollo’s fingers. 

“You can come whenever you want, Hisoka. This isn’t edging. You don’t need permission, just let it feel good.” 

Hisoka slurred out something that sounded like,  _ I’m trying.  _

Chrollo adjusted the way he was sitting and realized with a jolt that he was painfully hard, more hard than he’d ever been during a scene. It was a little disarming. Usually, he liked to remain above the fray. 

He gingerly touched himself through his pants, hoping that with the blindfold Hisoka wouldn’t notice. 

He did not want to inflate Hisoka’s oversized ego even more. 

“I’m really-- _ really close.”  _

“Okay,” Chrollo said quickly, forgetting himself for a moment. He positioned himself over Hisoka, one hand still working inside him, the other coming up to cup his face. 

Hisoka’s sharp chin jerked and then pushed into Chrollo’s touch. He sighed shakily. 

“ _ Really close,”  _ he croaked. 

Chrollo reached behind himself for the controls to the e-stim machine and hovered his hand over the dial that turned up the intensity. He didn’t turn it up yet, but he would. 

It was cruel, but that was the point. 

“Almost,” Chrollo said, mindless with arousal. His hand slid from Hisoka’s cheek to his throat. He didn’t squeeze, just held it there, feeling the thump of Hisoka’s pulse against his palm. 

Hisoka swallowed but he didn’t protest the hold. 

_ “Chrollo, can I come?”  _

“I told you, you don’t need to ask, darling.” The endearment slipped out without him even noticing. Chrollo’s cheeks felt warm, his whole body did, and there was some strange, thrumming energy roiling inside him, coiling like the back-end of a snake. He felt almost feverish. 

He wanted to tighten his grip on Hisoka’s throat until his face went red and the tension in his body left him. 

Hisoka garbled out something unintelligible, his body flexed. Chrollo tugged up the blindfold. He needed to see his eyes. 

It took Hisoka a few seconds to adjust, to see Chrollo, to see himself, to see, finally, Chrollo’s hand hovering over the e-stim controls. 

Chrollo  _ saw  _ the blood in his face drain. 

_ “Chrollo,”  _ he gritted out, none of that earlier, hazy submission in his voice. “ _ Ah--”  _ His thighs began to shake. Chrollo had seen that a few times in people before, the promise of a wrenching, whole-body orgasm. 

“ _ DON’T-- _ ” As Hisoka came, Chrollo jacked up the intensity on the e-stim machine, watched his face crumple, his eyes well with tears, and then quickly clamped his hand over Hisoka’s mouth as he  _ screamed.  _

_ “--off, off… turn it off!”  _

Hisoka came in an enthusiastic splatter over his stomach, sobs wracking his body. This was the highest setting Chrollo had subjected anybody to. It was making Hisoka writhe, or try to, at least. 

“Breathe, Hisoka, breathe,” Chrollo said, panting himself as he slowly began to turn down the e-stim. 

Hisoka’s spent cock twitched slightly sickeningly against his stomach. 

“ _ Please take it off,”  _ he groaned. 

“Look at me.” 

Hisoka’s eyes flitted upwards. It was alarming how he still managed to look cold like this, fearsome gold glinting like jewelry under dim light. 

Chrollo put on his most genuine smile, small and benevolent. 

“Look at that, we’re done,” he said to him, turning the machine down all the way. Hisoka’s eyes closed and his head dropped back against the pillow in relief. 

* * *

Hisoka’s body felt like it had been put into a cocktail shaker. Everything simultaneously hurt and felt numb. His hands wouldn’t stop trembling and as Chrollo awkwardly tilted a glass to his lips, he realized he was unbearably parched. 

“How was that?” Chrollo asked. He set the water glass down and leaned in close to Hisoka, eyes wide. Hisoka could make out the uneven speckling of his odd gray-brown eyes, the way the inner corners of his cornea were pink and veined. His jaw was strangely smooth, almost like he couldn’t grow hair there if he tried. 

“Was there anything you didn’t like?” Chrollo pressed. There was an anxious energy to him, a nervousness, the kind of thing that Hisoka would usually try to exploit immediately. The thought of that now couldn’t be less appealing. 

He wanted to be held. 

A chin resting on the top of his head, soft breaths disturbing the strands of his hair. 

“I liked all of it,” Hisoka croaked, and it was true. Inexplicably, he liked it all. Chrollo’s expression softened and then he smiled, a bit like a child: proud, blissfully so. 

“Promise?” 

The gentleness of him was giving Hisoka whiplash. 

He wanted to have sex with him, he realized, actual sex. Nothing but skin and bedsheets. He wanted to hold Chrollo’s face against his neck and roll his hips into him until he was coming against their stomach, a wash of wet and warmth. 

Fuck. 

“Shower time,” Chrollo whispered as he kissed his cheek. “Then you can sleep.” 

* * *

Hisoka took his customary nap as soon as he had showered. Chrollo had convinced him to do it on the couch so he was able to change the sheets on his bed and put away the equipment without worrying about the noise. 

Hisoka made a sound in his sleep that was just loud enough to be heard from the bedroom. It was almost comforting that he was on the couch, like having a dog sleep at the foot of your bed. 

Chrollo returned to the living room after the bed had been made up and settled in his favorite chair, opposite the couch. 

Hisoka slumbered on. 

The way he slept was strange: totally flat on his back, chin tilted up, arms folded over his stomach. Chrollo watched him for a while, until his eyes began to burn with exhaustion and he became overly aware of the faint whirring of the refrigerator. 

Time to wake him. 

“Hisoka?” 

“ _ Ugh.”  _ Hisoka stretched, back arching, hands curling into fists, and then opened both eyes with startling clarity. He looked Chrollo over. 

“Time izzit?” 

“Hm?” 

“Time, Chrollo, what time--” 

“Nearly nine.” 

“Ugh.” 

Hisoka sat upright and yawned, flashing the backs of his molars like a lion. He looked around Chrollo’s apartment, judgemental, as if it was his first time there. 

“Do you want to eat?” Chrollo asked. He didn’t like the heat of Hisoka’s gaze, the way it lingered on his kitchen counter and the books on his coffee table. 

“Yeah.” 

Chrollo fetched the food Hisoka had brought and began to lay it out on the coffee table. Hisoka scrolled passively through his phone. When Chrollo walked by him to get forks, he lifted his leg and patted Chrollo’s ass with his foot. 

“Stop it,” Chrollo said mildly, still walking away.. 

“Make me!” Hisoka crowed. He craned his neck to watch Chrollo from the kitchen as he grabbed some cutlery and returned, taking care to avoid Hisoka’s legs. 

Chrollo sat on his favorite chair and watched Hisoka flip open the takeout container to reveal wet greenery: a salad, heavy with a rainbow of vegetables and strips of grilled chicken. 

“Did you get me one?” Chrollo asked, peering into the bag. 

“Mhm,” Hisoka said, toeing at one of the containers still on the table. 

“Stop touching everything with your feet.” 

“You’re not into that?” 

“No,” Chrollo said honestly. Hisoka laughed. 

“Not even mine?” 

“Especially not yours.” 

“I have very nice feet,” Hisoka said indignantly. He glanced down at his light pink soles and frowned. Chrollo had to admit, as far as feet went, Hisoka’s weren’t terrible. He could tell he got them done at a salon. There wasn’t any paint on his toenails, but there was a soft sheen, and his soles looked weirdly soft, like they had been sandpapered. 

“Yeah, you do,” Chrollo agreed. Hisoka’s head jerked up and his brows half-lowered. He gave a slow, hesitant smile, a look Chrollo wasn’t sure he’d seen before, and then it was ruined a moment later as an evil grin took over. 

“So you  _ are  _ into feet stuff.” Hisoka could  _ see  _ the color flood into Chrollo’s cheeks. Chrollo leveled him with a very stern, unimpressed look, mouth twisted like he was about to perform a scolding. 

“I just  _ told  _ you I didn’t.” 

“Someone’s defensive.” 

“Hisoka--” 

“I’m eating,” Hisoka said, shoving a big forkful of salad into his mouth. 

“Eat, then,” Chrollo mumbled. 

They sat quietly for a while, eating and going on their phones and enjoying the fire Chrollo had spontaneously decided to put on. It wasn’t quite romantic, more companionable, like two friends who knew each other so well they didn’t even need to talk anymore to enjoy each other’s presence.

“Hisoka?” It had been at least twenty minutes since either of them had spoken. It felt almost sacrilegious to break the silence. 

“I followed you on Instagram.” 

“Cool,” Hisoka said, spearing a sliver of grilled chicken onto his fork. 

“Are you going to follow me back?” 

Chrollo saw Hisoka smile into his hand. He felt his stomach drop. 

“Nevermind,” Chrollo said firmly, quickly. He hated Hisoka when he was like this, hated him more than he thought possible. 

“Aw, don’t be like that! Lemme find you.” 

It took Hisoka a minute of sleuthing to find Chrollo’s account. When he did, he smiled again, eyes crinkling in a falsely kind way. 

“I followed you.” 

“I don’t--” Chrollo broke off, feeling embarrassed. “I don’t really know how to use the app, not like you do. I don’t post very often.” He felt his pulse in his throat.

“I can tell,” Hisoka said, scrolling through his phone. 

“You don’t have to follow me,” Chrollo added lamely. 

“I know I don’t have to, Chrollo,” Hisoka said exasperatedly, “but I am. Stop being weird.” 

“Okay.” 

“Cute,” Hisoka said to himself as he went through Chrollo’s account, but there was no fondness in his tone. It all made Chrollo feel slightly nauseous. 

Hisoka’s food was half-gone and looked picked through. 

“Wanna watch a movie?” Hisoka asked suddenly, finally looking back up from his phone. Chrollo made a face. 

“I thought you were going to leave.” 

“I wanna stay,” Hisoka said with a shrug. 

“Yeah, okay,” Chrollo said warily, curling up on one end of the couch, far enough that he and Hisoka had no chance of touching. 

Until Hisoka set his food on the table along with his phone and then flopped onto the couch lengthwise, dropping his cheek against Chrollo’s thigh. 

“Pick something,” he said around a yawn. 

Chrollo glanced down at Hisoka’s head. He could just make out the slope of his nose through the sheer red film of his bangs. Even his most neutral expression was still a smile, cheeks round and eyes turned up. 

“Anything?” Chrollo asked. 

“I trust you,” Hisoka said innocently. Chrollo knew he meant nothing substantial by it, but the words themselves, out of context, felt like a balm on the blister that had been just a few minutes earlier. It felt good.

As Chrollo flicked through Netflix, passionless, he missed the upwards glance Hisoka was giving him. 

Hisoka looked like he was doing some very important thinking: brows pinched together, mouth dropped unconsciously, eyes crushed with a sort of warm scrutiny. 

“What about this?” Chrollo asked, tilting his head back down.

Hisoka threw his gaze forward once again, blinking as if he had something in his eye. He was pretty sure he had escaped eye-contact, but Chrollo was still staring down at him, expression hesitant. 

“That’s fine,” Hisoka replied softly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thanks so much for reading,, comments keep me going i read them all
> 
> until the next update, peace!
> 
> my twt here: https://twitter.com/illumitheillest


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uh ohhhhh, feeeeeeeeelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a warning, hisoka and chrollo engage in sexual activity while drunk in this chapter. ive written it as totally consensual and i believe they are of able body and mind BUT if it's something that might make you uncomfortable, I suggest skipping over it

Hisoka woke to a startling heat on his back and an Instagram DM in his notifications. He had left his blackout shades open and the sun was coming in with such vigor that Hisoka felt like he’d been baked. His mouth tasted stale. He felt like a stone on the beach in July. 

He recognized the account that the dm came from, a very pretty actress who had been linked to a few very handsome actors. She was dating someone now, an older man who made the boys she used to be involved with look like just that, boys. 

_Hisoka! My boyfriend and I are in the city, was wondering if you wanted to get drinks with us xxx_

Hisoka was almost certain this was a threesome proposition. He had told Chrollo he wouldn’t be sleeping with people anymore, but then, it wasn’t like Chrollo seemed to care very much, and even if he didn’t, they didn’t have rules against it. 

The last threesome Hisoka had been a part of had gone somewhat poorly. They were all a bit too drunk, and the girl involved seemed very pleased to sit and watch Hisoka and her companion have very sloppy sex instead of participating herself. 

Hisoka had signed up for a threesome, not subpar gay sex with a side of voyeurism. 

With a bracing sigh, he replied to the message. 

_Sure, lmk the address and the time_

He leaned against the back of his couch, closed his eyes, and let his phone fall from his hand. 

* * *

The bar was already packed with people when Hisoka arrived. It seemed people had gotten word his drinkmates were there. Paparazzi littered the curb and when Hisoka pushed through and gave his name, a pair of security guards steered him into the back entrance. 

Hisoka made an apropos joke about back entrances. 

And then he was inside. 

The actress and her boyfriend waved as soon as he had ducked his head under the curtain. She was leaning forward with an arm planted on the table in front of her, the cups of her black bustier top straining to hold her in. Boyfriend was leaned back against the plush seating of the couch they were on, eyeing Hisoka with a movie-villain-blue gaze. 

He was older than Hisoka, with silvery hair at the temples, and he looked equal parts wary and smug. 

Hisoka sat himself on the opposite couch and flagged a server without looking. 

“Hisoka, I fucking love your hair.” Her voice was surprisingly low, even though she had to speak loudly over the music. Hisoka ruffled his hand through his own hair and then smiled with teeth. 

“Thank you.” 

Boyfriend, who Hisoka really should know by name, ordered a very strong, very masculine drink for Hisoka and then sent the server off. 

Hisoka just wanted a shirley temple. 

“Thanks,” he said to him regardless. Boyfriend nodded. 

“So, why the invite,” he asked, looking between the both of them. The actress fingered a very thick cuban chain around her neck. It flashed with set diamonds. 

She glanced at her boyfriend, who looked back, and then they both smiled. 

* * *

Hisoka, between the two of them, made it to about second base before he backed out. 

There was a lot of fluttering hands and apologies on both sides and Hisoka asked for a moment because he was so drunk he didn’t think he could stand a minute longer, and then Boyfriend was calling him an Uber Lux with his arms underneath Hisoka’s armpits, to keep him upright. 

“Another time,” Boyfriend said, smiling a smile that smelled of gin. The actress looked very concerned but Hisoka leaned forward and whispered sloppily in her ear: _“I’m having sex with someone else and I can’t stop thinking about him.”_

Even in his alcohol-addled state, Hisoka could catch the relief and the amusement spread through her. 

“Let’s get you in that uber,” she said, stumbling a little as she stepped forward. They all had had a lot to drink at the bar. 

Boyfriend opened the front door of their hotel suite, laughing a bit as Hisoka nearly crashed into him. 

_Chrollo Chrollo Chrollo,_ he thought. 

Hisoka just made it into the uber, collapsing into the back of what he was pretty sure was a Maybach. 

“Hey, can I change the address?” He slurred. 

The driver looked back at him, eyeing his jeans and his hair. 

“Yeah, you can change it on the app.” 

“Don’t have my phone,” Hisoka lied. He didn’t want to text Boyfriend and ask him to change the address. 

“As long as it’s a similar distance, that’s fine.” 

“It’s much closer,” Hisoka mumbled. 

“If you’re going to vomit, sir, please roll down the window.”

“M’fine. D’you have water?” 

Before the driver even answered, Hisoka was fishing a water bottle out of the center console in the back. He cracked it open and drained the whole thing in one go. 

He really hoped Chrollo was in his apartment. He said he didn’t sleep with other people, but he could still be at the club, or maybe with Machi or Pakunoda or his other friends. Or maybe he was lying and he did sleep with other people. 

For some reason, Hisoka was cruelly delighted by the thought. 

* * *

The doorman at Chrollo’s apartment knew Hisoka by now, and let him up without preamble. 

Hisoka stumbled to Chrollo’s door, slumped against it, and knocked awkwardly and with as much strength as he could muster. The door swung open a moment later to a sleep-rumbled Chrollo in pajamas. 

“ _Cute,”_ Hisoka breathed. Chrollo looked down at himself, and then looked at Hisoka. He was too sleepy to look actually shrewd, but he tried. 

“You’re drunk,” Chrollo rasped. Hisoka swayed over the threshold. Chrollo had clearly just taken a shower. His hair was still damp and his cheeks were red, like he had scrubbed at them with too much vigor. He looked good. 

“Chrollo,” Hisoka slurred, pressing the entire length of his body up against him. “Let me fuck you.” Chrollo’s apartment suddenly felt very large. Hisoka could feel a draft whistle against his back.

_Don’t reject me or I’ll die._

Probably dramatic, probably. 

_“Hisoka--”_

“I’ll make it really good… you-you can tie me up or whatever.” 

“Hisoka,” Chollo said again. Hisoka blinked blearily up at him, hair falling over his eyes like a sheepdog. He looked nice like this, without the slicked back hair and the outfits, all those deliberate trappings. “You’re wasted, let’s get you to bed.” 

“I’m not that drunk, promise. _Please_ let me fuck you, I need to fuck something or I’ll _die_ , _please, please, please_.” 

“Come on,” Chrollo said. He hoisted Hisoka up onto one shoulder and dragged him towards his bathroom. 

“You aren’t saying no,” Hisoka noted smugly, nearly crashing into the door jam. 

“Thought it was implied,” Chrollo said. He dropped Hisoka onto the bench of the shower and turned the water on, keeping it angled away as it warmed up. 

Hisoka was staring at him through a half-lidded gaze, eyes so gold they didn’t look real. 

“I really like having sex with you,” Hisoka said. 

“I like having sex with you, too.”

“I know you think I’m really drunk,” Hisoka went on. 

“Take off your shirt,” Chrollo interrupted. Hisoka glanced down at himself, blinking with all the awareness of a stone, and then looked back up at Chrollo, thoroughly confused. Chrollo sighed, reached forward, and got started on the buttons. 

“I know you think I’m so drunk,” Hisoka continued drowsily. “But I am serious about the fucking part. I don’t mind being the bitch--” 

“You’re not a bitch,” Chrollo said patiently. 

“I _like it!_ But I can still be the bitch if I’m fucking you, can’t I? I just want to stick my dick into--” 

“I get it,” Chrollo said amusedly. 

“I want to stick my dick into something,” Hisoka spluttered out, undeterred. “And if I could have sex with someone else, I would!” 

“You can,” Chrollo said, and even as he said it, his stomach roiled with discomfort. _Christ in hell, he didn’t want Hisoka to have sex with someone else._

“I don’t want to,” Hisoka groaned, like they had been over this many times before. “If I could, I would, that’s what I’m saying.” 

“Okay,” Chrollo said, trying to sound kind, understanding. He finally freed Hisoka of his shirt and got started on his pants. It was obscene how good his body was, even slumped over in a shower, drunk out of his mind. 

When he got his pants and underwear off, it became clear he was half-hard, but Chrollo didn’t think much of it. Hisoka got hard _really_ easily, and at the strangest things. 

Chrollo would never forget the night he had set up a fucked-out Hisoka on the padded armchair by his bed so he could change the sheets before they slept, and as he tucked the duvet cover into the bed frame, saw Hisoka swell in his boxers. 

_“Are you serious?”_

_“I dunno,” Hisoka said with a shrug, looking down at himself. “It’s working for me.”_

_“I’m changing the sheets,” Chrollo pointed out, “and you just came three times.”_

_“Like I said--”_

“I’m hard,” Hisoka noticed quietly, barely audible over the shower spray. He reached down and sloppily palmed himself. 

“Stop that,” Chrollo said, knocking his hand away and turning the shower head onto him. The water doused him. Hisoka flinched, hard, bringing his shoulders up to his ears. 

“Warn me next time,” Hisoka muttered, looking like a drenched cat. 

“Don’t touch yourself right now,” Chrollo repeated tiredly. “I just want to get you to bed.” 

“What’re you gonna do if I do?” Hisoka asked, leaning in, dripping water, and smiling. 

“It doesn’t matter because you’re not.” Hisoka looked down at himself petulantly, and then at Chrollo, before his own exhaustion won out and he sagged back against the marble wall and sighed. 

“You win.” 

“It wasn’t a game,” Chrollo said to himself, feeling proud all the same. Hisoka watched him hazily as the shower filled with steam. Chrollo half-heartedly rubbed him down with body wash, but Hisoka wasn’t being cooperative with lifting his arms or anything, and besides, he didn’t really need to be cleaned all that much. He still smelled of his usual soap, sweet and warm like a just-ripe strawberry.

“Okay,” Chrollo said, “you’re done.” Hisoka nodded and moved to stand. In the few seconds it took him to shift his weight, his whole complexion paled. His eyes went wide and he clutched Chrollo’s wrist like it was a railing. 

“I don’t feel well,” he gasped out. 

“Dear Lord,” Chrollo muttered. He slung Hisoka’s arm over his shoulder and dragged him hurriedly to the toilet. Hisoka dropped to his knees with such force that Chrollo winced out of sympathy. Hisoka draped himself over the toilet and groaned pitifully. 

“I hate throwing up,” he muttered, voice echoing into the toilet bowl. 

“Yeah, well,” Chrollo said, sitting on his butt beside him and running a hand through his own damp hair. 

“Is this a huge turn off for you?” Hisoka asked, turning his head so that he was looking at Chrollo, cheek squished against the toilet seat. 

In that moment, Chrollo felt an unbelievable heat course through him, like he was being hosed down with boiling water. He shifted his weight onto his palms and tried not to blush. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._

“No, Hisoka,” Chrollo croaked. He didn’t really know how to say that Hisoka could do just about anything and it wouldn’t necessarily be a turn off. 

He rubbed his hand up Hisoka’s still-wet back, fingertips trailing over the knobs of his spine. 

He still had his hand on Hisoka’s back when Hisoka convulsed, his whole body coiling like a snake’s as he keeled over the toilet and vomited up mostly liquid. 

_“Guh,”_ Hisoka groaned. 

“You’re going to feel much better when it’s done,” Chrollo promised. 

_“I only came here ‘cause I wanted to fuck you,”_ Hisoka half-sobbed. 

“How’s that working out?” 

Hisoka vomited again. 

He didn’t stop until he had emptied the contents of his stomach and was reduced to dry heaving. 

“I’m gonna get you water,” Chrollo said, dragging himself to his feet and giving Hisoka a quick, respectful once over. 

Chrollo slipped out of the bathroom and his bedroom, and made his way to the kitchen. 

As he filled two glasses with ice water, he tried very hard not to picture Hisoka sprawled out on the floor of his bathroom, muttering about how much he wanted to fuck something. It had been a few days since they had done something together, but Chrollo could still picture it. 

Hisoka always started the night smiling. Sometimes Chrollo pried a few tears out of him, but mostly, he got dazed golden eyes flickering in and out of awareness, like Chrollo had plucked him out of his own body and had told him to wait on the sidelines until he was done. 

“Hisoka,” Chrollo whispered to himself in an empty kitchen. 

He took the glasses of water and went back down the hall. 

Hisoka was standing on his own two feet when he returned to the bathroom, and he was brushing his teeth with Chrollo’s toothbrush. 

“You’re kidding,” Chrollo sighed. 

“Mouth tasted gross,” Hisoka said around the toothbrush. He spit the excess toothpaste into the sink and continued brushing. 

“I’m never using that again,” Chrollo said. 

“Daddy’ll buy you a new one.” 

“Daddy threw up in my bathroom like a girl in college.” 

Chrollo felt a little snarl of satisfaction as Hisoka’s cheeks burned red. Without a response, he rinsed out his mouth, took a glass out of Chrollo’s hand, and wobbled to Chrollo’s bed. 

“Can I sleep here?” Hisoka called as Chrollo tossed his toothbrush into the trash. Chrollo poked his head into the bedroom and frowned at the way Hisoka was standing, shoulders hunched from the cold, looking oddly unsure. 

“Yeah,” he said softly, “that was the whole point. Do you want clothes to sleep in?” 

“Just gonna sleep under the covers,” Hisoka said, draining his glass of water and gingerly crawling into bed. 

Chrollo did a once-over of the bathroom, and to his surprise, it wasn’t a fright. There was water all over the floor, from Hisoka, but beyond that, it didn’t look bad. He fetched Hisoka’s wet clothes from the shower and carried them into his laundry room. As he walked by, he glanced at his bed. 

Hisoka was already tucked in, curled up on one side. His eyes were closed but Chrollo could tell by the measure of his breathing that he wasn’t fully asleep. 

Chrollo tossed Hisoka’s wet clothes into a corner of his laundry room and then crept back to bed. 

“You know,” Chrollo whispered, settling in next to Hisoka. “This relationship is a two-way-street.” 

Hisoka grunted, half-asleep. 

“If you want to top, that’s not a problem. I don’t really have a preference.” 

“I feel like you handle me too well,” Hisoka mumbled. He had his head turned away. Chrollo reached out and gently turned it, forcing his whole body to roll so that it was facing him. 

Hisoka looked exhausted, on the verge of sleep. 

“I handle you?” Chrollo didn’t know what he was getting at, didn’t know if this was turning into a conversation that would best be done sober and clothed. For some stupid reason, his heart was racing.

“I feel managed,” Hisoka added around a yawn. 

“Do you not like that?” 

“I like it a lot. I’m just… not used to it.” 

“We can change things up, you know. I don’t like to do things strictly one way.” 

“I like things the way they are,” Hisoka said, pulling the covers up more over his goosebumped skin. “I just want to fuck you.” 

“We can make that happen,” Chrollo said fondly. 

“Okay.” With that, Hisoka flopped onto his back and sighed

“Are you going to sleep?” 

“I think so,” Hisoka replied hoarsely. There was a pause. “Uh, I’m sorry for tonight by the way.” 

“This is unlike you.” 

“Yeah, don’t get used to it,” Hisoka said.

“Goodnight,” he added, leaning back to look at Chrollo. 

“Goodnight,” Chrollo whispered in reply. 

* * *

_Chrollo: I want to try something today_

_Hisoka: is it me putting my dick inside of you_

_Chrollo: no_

_Hisoka: … fine ill be there in half an hour_

_Chrollo: bring stuff to spend the night_

_Hisoka: ooh u gonna wear me out? ;)_

_Chrollo: see u Hisoka_

* * *

“What are we doing today?” Hisoka perched on the edge of Chrollo’s couch and tugged at a loose thread on one of the cushions. 

“Something different,” Chrollo said vaguely.

“Thought you were gonna hit me today, or something.” 

“I’ve been going easy on you,” Chrollo admitted. Hisoka made a dismissive sound. “This stuff isn’t just about hitting you until you come.” 

“Well--” 

“In fact, it’s not even about getting you to come.” 

Hisoka’s nose wrinkled. 

“I don’t see any point in that.” 

“I’m sure you don’t,” Chrollo said amusedly. “Kneel on the ground in front of my reading chair. I’ll be right back.” Hisoka looked at him dubiously, but he eventually crossed the room to Chrollo’s reading chair, which was pushed up in the corner right next to his fireplace. There was a small side table on its left side, with a tiny book of quotes from a man Hisoka didn’t know, and a three-wick candle. Chrollo’s great big persian rug just managed to reach the spot Hisoka was told to kneel at, so at least it wouldn’t be too hard on his knees. He dropped into a kneel and waited.

Chrollo didn’t bother hiding it when he returned to the living room. He watched as Hisoka went as stiff as a board, watched as his eyes narrowed with betrayal. 

“Chrollo,” Hisoka began lowly. 

“Hisoka--” 

“You have got to be fucking joking.” 

“You aren’t going to speak unless you’re safewording out.” 

Hisoka pressed his lips together. 

“A little while ago, you said you didn’t like canes.” 

Hisoka nodded tightly. 

“Don’t nod. I said not to move.” Hisoka’s brows lowered but he didn’t protest. 

“As I was saying, you told me you didn’t like canes. I am not going to make you explain why, but we are going to try to change that today.” 

Hisoka’s forehead creased. He looked properly unhappy, the set of his shoulders overly pronounced. 

“Hisoka, look at me.” 

Hisoka’s troubled gaze wrenched upward. One eyebrow lifted in a weak attempt at looking nonchalant. 

“Are you afraid? You can nod or shake your head.” Hisoka did a funny hybrid of both. 

“It’s alright to be afraid. You’ve been afraid during a scene before, haven’t you? You weren’t sure about the wax. The e-stim was, in your own words, the _invention of a psychopath_. This feeling isn’t totally new. Though, I admit, it may be more intense, is that right?” 

Hisoka nodded very slowly. 

“Good. Alright.” Chrollo held up the cane and watched as Hisoka bodily flinched. 

“Do not move, you understand?” Slowly, the cane was lowered over one of Hisoka’s shoulders, like he was being knighted. His cheek twitched. 

The tip of the cane brushed up the side of his neck and lingered over his cheekbone. His eye scrunched and he tried to shy away, but a cluck from Chrollo’s tongue brought him back. 

He wasn’t fully hard, which was significant for Hisoka, who was so easily and frequently aroused that sometimes Chrollo couldn’t keep up. It was strangely validating, though, that he was still letting this happen, even though it wasn’t exciting him. 

“It’s really nice when you don’t talk,” Chrollo noted with a light laugh. Hisoka’s gaze darkened. He opened his mouth to protest, but before he could get a word out, the cane was dipping from his cheek to his bottom lip, the slightly rounded end of it digging into the flesh, parting his mouth ever so slightly. 

Hisoka gurgled out a sound of confusion. 

“Do you need to say something?” 

Hisoka started to nod, but was interrupted. 

“I asked if you _needed_ to say something, yes? This better be important, then.” Hisoka’s gaze darted to the side and he sagged a little. 

“Good,” Chrollo said. He dragged the cane down his chin, down his chest, until it came to a direct stop at his sternum. Hisoka exhaled shakily. 

He was fully hard now, but there was none of that tell-tale lust simmering underneath his gaze. He looked open and young and afraid. 

“How do you feel, Hisoka? You can speak.” 

“--don’t like it,” Hisoka gasped out. 

“Which part?” 

“Any--all of it, Chrollo. I don’t understand why--” 

“Are you okay to keep going?” 

“I’m not--” 

“Yes or no, Hisoka.” 

“Yes,” he breathed. 

“Let me know otherwise. No more talking.” 

Chrollo let the end of the cane drop down, landing with a light tap against Hisoka’s lap. He jolted and glanced down, expression peculiar. Chrollo didn’t like making assumptions about people, but the way Hisoka reacted to the cane was so similar to the way a horse jolted at the tap of a whip, it was uncanny. 

The cane slid around to Hisoka’s hip. Even through his clothes, the placement seemed to disturb him. 

“I want you to put your forehead on the edge of the seat of the chair.” Hisoka looked confused. 

“Head down, yes, like that, and now brace--brace your forehead against the edge of the seat of my chair, and hold it there. Your eyes can wander but your head can’t move.” 

The back of Hisoka’s neck was red. Chrollo could see his eyes swiveling almost desperately around, trying to gauge where Chrollo was putting the cane next. 

“I’m going to let you speak again. Yes or no only. Alright?” 

“Uh, yes.” 

“Did it ever break skin?” Hisoka sucked in air through his teeth and released it with a short barely-there laugh. 

“Yes.” 

“Well done. Have you ever used it in the bedroom?” Hisoka shifted it on his knees. These questions were cruel, too pointed to leave Hisoka any real privacy. He supposed he could safeword out, if he really wanted, but he found the idea both embarrassing and unappealing. 

“No.” 

“In your adulthood, ever?” 

“No.” 

“If I were to hit you with it, would you want to stop?” 

“Yes,” Hisoka answered immediately. 

“Think about it.” 

_“Yes.”_

“Alright, that’s okay, that’s well done.” Chrollo withdrew the cane from Hisoka’s hip and tucked it under his armpit. 

“Take off your clothes, all of them. Keep your head down.” Hisoka awkwardly shimmied out of his pants and his shirt, huffing through his nose with annoyance.

He felt dizzy, almost dehydrated, and no matter how many times he blinked, hsi vision still seemed blurry. Chrollo had his elbows on his knees and he was leaned forward, waiting as Hisoka stripped himself. 

As soon as his clothes were gone, Hisoka felt a hand in his hair, warm, heavy, long fingers sliding against the denser part at the back of his head. He closed his eyes. 

And then the cane pressed against his back, perpendicular to his spine. 

“ _Uh--”_

“Quiet,” Chrollo said gently. Hisoka remembered once, after a particularly frustrating scene, he’d complained to Chrollo about all the rules, the limitations: keep your head tilted this way, don’t close your eyes, now close them and don’t open them, don’t speak, don’t move. 

Chrollo had shrugged, eyes soft with sleep. 

“You’re so overachieving and naturally good at things, it’s easy to give you tasks to follow. I think you like it.” 

“I don’t like being told what to do,” Hisoka reminded him grouchily. 

“You need it sometimes. It’s not me trying to be controlling or cruel, if anything, it’s kindness.” 

Kindness? It didn’t feel kind. 

Except it was starting to now. 

Hisoka could be quiet, he knew how to do that. He just pressed his lips together, closed his eyes, and focused on the delicate rigidity of a too-cool wooden cane being lifted and lowered against the middle of his back, like a horse being broken for the saddle. 

His neck relaxed and his head pushed into Chrollo’s touch. 

“Stay quiet and focus on your breathing.” 

Hisoka inhaled raggedly, but the breath came out smooth. 

The touches turned to taps, and the taps began to travel, dipping until they were at his lower back, and then at his dimples of Venus. 

Hisoka’s next breath came out like a shudder. Chrollo leaned over him, like some saint about to give a pardon, and kissed at his temple. 

_“Breathe,”_ he whispered, mouth brushing Hisoka’s ear. 

The cane went lower. 

It was different from spanking. There was no pain, but there was a threat of it, which was almost worse. A cane had much more potential for damage than a hand. It was the kind of thing that could break skin without much effort. 

Chrollo scooted forward on the seat of his chair, so that Hisoka’s head was in his lap, and his arms, red at the forearms from where he gripped himself, came up to wrap around Chrollo’s waist. 

“Is this okay,” Hisoka asked quietly. 

“You don’t have to ask,” Chrollo assured him. He watched the bulk of Hisoka’s shoulders relax minutely. 

The taps were persistent, almost like the ticking of a metronome. They didn’t hurt very much, just a light sting, and they felt so different from Hisoka’s memories of it that it was almost unrecognizable. 

“Alright?” 

Hisoka nodded rapidly. He was clutching Chrollo’s waist so tightly it was making it hard to breathe. His fingers dug into Chrollo’s ribcage with a vengeance. 

“I’m going to go harder.” At the sound of Hisoka’s nervous wheeze, Chrollo stroked a hand through his hair. 

“Breathe.” 

Hisoka inhaled a loud, rattling breath. 

He exhaled a moment later. 

“Hold it in for longer, almost until it hurts.” 

Hisoka inhaled again and held it this time, sniffling as Chrollo smoothed a hand up his very still back. 

When he exhaled, the taps grew harder, faster, but, instead of stiffening up further, Hisoka did the opposite. He sank forward, his torso fully on Chrollo’s lap. He could absolutely feel the outline of Chrollo’s erection against his chest, but he didn’t seem to care. The contact was about as benign as a dog in your lap, pressure and nothing more. 

“There you go,” Chrollo murmured. Hisoka’s eyes were closed and though his body was lax, there was a tightness in his brow that told Chrollo he was still putting in a lot of effort to not react to what was happening. 

The sound of the cane reminded Chrollo of the start to a song he liked to listen to. He got lost in it for a bit, barely aware of the movement it required of his wrist. Over and over, he tapped, until the lump of flesh over his lap and between his legs that was Hisoka began to squirm, to whimper. 

He still didn’t speak, didn’t try to lift his head or physically stop, but it was clear by the clamp of his thighs, the arch of his spine, he wanted it to stop. 

“Sorry,” Chrollo said softly, slowing down. He didn’t want to sound too apologetic, lest he brought Hisoka out of the headspace he was in. Instead, he brought his hand holding the cane up and, with it still between his fingers, stroked up Hisoka’s back. 

He twitched at first, at the sensation of the cane between Chrollo’s fingers, but he didn’t do anything more than that. He just slumped forward, his weight evenly distributed between Chrollo’s lap and the front of the chair. 

There was no predicted end to a scene like this, which had been something Chrollo had worried about, but it became clear he had been concerned for nothing. 

Hisoka’s skin was red from the many kisses of the cane, but there was no hint of broken blood vessels. He looked relaxed, face buried against Chrollo’s thigh. 

They sat like this for what must have been at least a half hour: Hisoka wincing as Chrollo stroked up and down his back. His skin there was slightly cold to the touch, but his hands, which had snuck up under his shirt, were warm. 

“Hisoka,” Chrollo whispered. He was worried for his knees, and the room was starting to grow cold. 

“Will you let me turn on the fire?” Chrollo had set them up in this chair for a reason, so that after, he could turn on the fire without getting up and they could bask in the orange, flickering heat, but he’d been silly and left the lighter on the coffee table.

 _“Mhm,”_ Hisoka said with a rousing sigh. He sat his weight back on his heels, blearily rubbing at his eyes. His erection was starting to flag, which was good. 

Chrollo stood, stretched on the tips of his toes, and crept to the coffee table for the lighter. He hummed the song that the cane had reminded him off, as Hisoka watched him through slitted eyes, cheek resting on his folded forearms. 

“I’m not good at starting fires,” Chrollo admitted sheepishly, squatting in front of his fireplace and readjusting the firewood. 

_“I--”_ Hisoka broke off, startled by how ruined his voice sounded. 

“I’ll get you tea when I finish with this,” Chrollo promised. 

It took him a few tries but a fire finally bloomed, washing the room in a deep, warm glow. Shadows danced up the walls. 

It felt like a ritual. 

Chrollo started the kettle on the stove and ducked to his bedroom for blankets. 

When he returned to the living room, Hisoka was already curled up on the couch, eyes half-closed. He seemed okay, content even, but it was always hard to tell with him. 

Chrollo draped two blankets over him and thumbed at his cheek. 

“I’ll get your tea.” 

Chrollo squeezed a little bit of lemon and dolloped some honey into a mug with tea leaves steeping in it. 

Hisoka usually preferred a cappuccino from the fancy cappuccino machine Chrollo had been given for his birthday by Paku and Machi, but Chrollo had run out of decaf and he didn’t think Hisoka needed the caffeine. 

Not ever, but certainly not now. 

He set the mug down on the coffee table and then joined Hisoka on the couch, sitting at where Hisoka’s face was squished against the cushions. 

“Hm?” 

“Tea’s ready, but you can sleep.” 

“Power nap,” Hisoka whispered before he passed out. 

* * *

The peace was short-lived. 

“Where the _fuck_ did that come from?” Hisoka was walking unsteadily, like he was in the grips of a bad hangover. 

“Lie down,” Chrollo said mildly. 

“M’not even tired. Hungry.” 

“You’ve been eating me out of house and home these past few weeks.” 

“Do you have cheese sticks?” Hisoka asked, swinging the refrigerator door open. Chrollo squinted. 

“Cheese what?” 

“Cheese sticks, the peeling ones.” 

“No.” 

Hisoka leaned back so he could glance at Chrollo from around the refrigerator door. His gaze was tired and sparkling, so handsome. 

“I’m making food a required part of the aftercare.” 

“I’ll order us food, don’t be so dramatic.” 

“What do you eat when I’m not here? You don’t take care of yourself very well.” 

“Please don’t do that,” Chrollo said tiredly. Hisoka closed the fridge and raised an eyebrow. 

“I don’t need to be lectured,” Chrollo added. 

Hisoka leaned his elbows on the edge of Chrollo’s kitchen counter. He looked about to say something, but then he clearly thought better of it--no doubt for his own benefit. 

“How do you feel?” Chrollo asked him. Hisoka’s face flooded, and then he tilted his nose up. 

“Bereft,” he sniffed. 

“For Christ’s sake,” Chrollo said, “I’ll get us some food.” 

“Order now, please,” Hisoka said, beaming.

“Come decide,” Chrollo called, waving him over. 

Hisoka collapsed onto the couch next to Chrollo, sure to press as much of his body against him as he could. Chrollo scrolled deftly through a food delivery app. 

“How’d you come up with that?” Hisoka asked, cheek squished against Chrollo’s shoulder. Chrollo tucked his feet under him, pressed a chaste kiss to Hisoka’s temple. 

“I dunno. I was just thinking last night.” 

“About _me,_ ” Hisoka said smugly. 

_“Always,”_ Chrollo shot back jokingly, except in the moments after he spoke, his chest panged with the truth of it.

* * *

It had been a week since the night with the cane. Hisoka was pretty sure he was still recovering from it, the whiplash and all. He and Chrollo hadn’t met up yet, but they had begun to text frequently. Chrollo insisted it was to check in on Hisoka, as they hadn’t quite yet done something so intense, but their conversations had devolved from well-intentioned check-ins to long, winding conversations that usually ended with one of them falling asleep with their phone on their chest. 

It was nice, like a highschool crush. 

Hisoka wasn’t like this with the people he usually fucked. Besides Carla, he never kept in touch with them. The city had an inexhaustible pool of beautiful people, he didn’t need to cling to one or two like some child. 

He didn’t know when, but Chrollo had started to become different. 

It was a Saturday, but Hisoka had spent the day working with a client eight hours ahead of him, and he was tired. There were four unopened invites on his phone to the same club even happening downtown. He was supposed to go--he _should_ go, but the thought of being charming and entertaining for people he didn’t care for sounded like torture. 

Against his thigh, his phone rang. Most people knew not to call him spontaneously, so when he pulled out his phone, he wasn’t even remotely surprised to see Chrollo’s contact. 

Idiot. 

“Hisoka!” Chrollo sounded like he was at a club. His voice was heavy and thick and the music in the background was low and thrumming, nothing like the boring classical stuff he liked to play. 

“Chrollo!” Hisoka said back, feeling jovial. 

“Wanna come out with me? I’m with Machi and everyone--hold on, hold on, Phinks, I’m on the phone!” 

“Where?” 

“It’s close to you!” 

“Where, Chro?”

“Uh, I’ll send the address. You should come, Hisoka. I think it would be really, really fun.” He was clearly drunk, which Hisoka was delighted and surprised by. He had assumed the guy didn’t drink, just based on everything he knew about him. 

“I’m coming,” Hisoka promised.

“Hurry!” 

Machi was waiting outside the club with her coat on, arms wrapped around her middle and her hood pulled up over her head. She was frowning. 

“Hi,” Hisoka said, a little breathless. Machi grunted. 

“It’s cold out here.” 

“Aw, have you been waiting for me?” 

“Chrollo told me to. He was worried you’d be shy coming in alone, considering you don’t know anyone besides me and him.” 

Hisoka scoffed but he couldn’t shake the curl of embarrassment in his stomach, the disarming feeling of being known. 

“I told him he was being stupid,” Machi went on, but she glanced back at him with an understanding look. 

“Ready?” Hisoka asked, eager to get inside. He wanted to breathe in air that wasn’t so cold. He wanted to brace his hands on the edge of a sticky bar and squeeze his eyes shut and see bright purple spots beneath his eyelids. 

Chrollo was bent over a table half-shouting at Paku, who seemed to have stolen his drink. He was wearing his usual boring outfit: dark pants, a dark button-down, but the sleeves were rolled up to his forearms and he was wearing red Converse, which was incurably cute. 

Hisoka, struck with a sudden surge of fondness, and mischief, walked right up behind Chrollo.

Chrollo hadn’t noticed him yet. 

He braced one of his palms against the nape of Chrollo’s neck, pushed him quickly down onto the table until he was bent over provocatively, and then grinded against his ass with all the sloppiness and lewdness of a teenager. 

“Stop it,” Chrollo said tiredly, unphased, even as the rest of the table roared with laughter. He was slumped against the table on his elbows, cheek pressed to the sticky surface, waiting until it was over. 

Hisoka, disappointed by his reaction, or lack thereof, stopped. 

“You’re so boring.” 

“Yeah,” Chrollo agreed, righting himself with an indignant glare. 

Phinks, the taller blonde one, was still laughing, banging his fist on the table as he fought back another round of giggles. 

Hisoka beamed. 

“Do you want something?” Machi asked, settling into her spot next to Pakunoda and the other woman, the dark-haired one. Shizuku. 

“Can you get us two sidecars?” Chrollo asked. 

“Ooh,” the smaller blonde one said, lacing his fingers together and resting his chin on it. “Very manly.” 

“Sit,” Machi commanded, patting the open spot in the booth next to her. Chrollo was still standing, and he seemed content to, like a general about to lay out battle plans. 

Hisoka took a look at the table in front of him, gaze lingering over the six of them. He knew Machi, and he knew more about Paku than he cared to by osmosis. Though the things he knew were probably not appropriate to bring up in a public setting. 

Chrollo introduced the other five as Shizuku, who he knew already, and Feitan, Phinks, Nobu, and Shalnark. 

“Hi,” Hisoka said to them, smiling with teeth. 

* * *

Hisoka spent the first half of the night trying to charm Chrollo’s friends. He knew it was a little ridiculous, but he was on his second cocktail and Chrollo kept smiling at him and he felt _good._

As the bar grew more crowded, Hisoka pulled Chrollo away to the bar so they could sit together. It was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, no longer having to navigate a conversation with seven other people. 

He murmured a drink order to the bartender as Chrollo fiddled with the sleeves of his button-down. 

“What’s this,” Chrollo asked, tilting the glass he’d been handed very suspiciously. 

“Jager Bomb.” 

“What’s in it?” 

“Fireball and Redbull.” 

“Vile, Hisoka,” Chrollo said quietly, almost in awe. Hisoka slid two over to himself and then pushed the remaining one to Chrollo. 

“Ready?” 

“We’re doing two?” 

“Yeah.”

“You drink it all in one go?” 

Hisoka laughed into his shoulder. 

“What do you think, Chrollo?” 

“Okay,” Chrollo said, shifting on his seat. He was so different out in public, sort of deferential, terrible posture, pathetically tired. He was the kind of person Hisoka would bump shoulders with on the street and not think anything of. 

Except, simultaneously, he had come into Hisoka’s life in a vortex of pain and pleasure and odd moments of warmth, like some sexual magistrate who happened to be the only person he was happy to see in the mornings. 

“Ready?” Chrollo asked him. He leaned over the bar, towards Hisoka, filling up his frame of view with dark eyes and dark, oil-slick hair. The gray under his eyes was so soft and tender, like the blue you see on the underbelly of a pale person’s forearm. Hisoka wanted to lick it off him. 

“Ready for what?” Hisoka asked stupidly. He was barely drunk. Barely. Chrollo laughed. If he had been more sober, he would have given Hisoka a harder time, a much harder time. 

“Shots, Hisoka.” He leaned closer. His mouth pressed against Hisoka’s throat and he sighed, shakily. It was a kind of pda that Hisoka would have scoffed at just a few months earlier. 

He felt Chrollo’s brow drop against the juncture of his neck and shoulder, against the muscle there. He could _feel_ his eyes scrunch, his eyelashes bat against his skin. 

“You okay?” 

“You smell good.” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’m okay,” Chrollo decided, pulling away from Hisoka’s neck and giving him a quick, assuring smile. Chrollo had rounder cheeks than Hisoka, rounder cheeks, a squarish, less-pointy jaw, almost young features, young but handsome. 

“I can feel myself getting sober, Chro, come on.” 

Chrollo held the shot up to the light, lips pursed, and then nodded in a small way. 

“One, two--” 

“Drink,” Hisoka interrupted. Chrollo glanced sideways at him, a little offended, and then knocked back the first bomb, in tandem with Hisoka. 

He picked up the second one without thought and downed that, too. 

“You're an easy drinker,” Hisoka said, running his tongue over his teeth and cringing at the overly sweet tang of Redbull. 

“I’ve gotten better,” Chrollo admitted. He glanced down at his hands and then looked up at the bartender. 

“Can we get two more?” 

“Another?” Hisoka asked weakly. 

“I like them,” Chrollo said, turning a little on his stool and looking Hisoka over. His eyes travelled downward. 

In the background, Hisoka could hear the rest of Chrollo’s friends laughing and talking. Machi was called Paku’s name over and over, kind of in the way a child does to get someone’s attention. She got like that when she was drunk. 

Two more Jager bombs were put in front of them. Chrollo took his immediately and then looked imploringly at Hisoka, throat still working down the Redbull and Fireball.

Hisoka took the bomb, tilted it towards himself and watched the Fireball spill into the outer glass holding the Redbull. The two liquids were remarkably similar in color, but there was a slight viscosity to the Fireball that differentiated it. 

Hisoka knocked it back. 

“Might leave soon,” he said with a grimace. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything, just words to fill the silence, to distract his tongue from the taste of cinnamon and artificial sweetener. 

“Me, too,” Chrollo said, staring back without an ounce of reticence. 

“How soon?” Hisoka croaked. His head was starting to buzz. The shots, plus the alcohol he had consumed before, were working their way through his system. He hadn’t eaten enough today. He felt on the verge of laughter and there wasn’t anything remotely funny about the situation. 

“Soon,” Chrollo replied. He leaned his weight onto the bar, onto his elbows. 

“Me, too,” Hisoka said quietly. It was strange. He and Chrollo should be closer than this, they should be more comfortable. He didn’t understand why this felt like a first date, why he was _nervous._

Chrollo stood up from his stool, wavered slightly, and pulled out his phone. 

“I’m gonna call a car,” he said, voice a little slurred. Hisoka looked around the bar until his eyes met Machi’s. Just a few minutes ago, she had been verging on a mess, arms thrown around Paku and Shizuku, laving her tongue over the rim of Nobu’s drink just because he told her not to. 

Now, her expression was razor-sharp, as clear as the daytime. Hisoka felt himself squirm under her gaze. Her eyes flitted to Chrollo, lips twitching, and then Paku was nibbling on her ear and she tore her attention away. 

“Oh,” Chrollo said softly, “the car’s here already.” 

Hisoka instantly forgot about Machi, about her judgement. He stood from his stool, nearly crashing into Chrollo, and then followed him out of the bar, unaware of the seven pairs of eyes watching the both of them leave together. 

* * *

The walk to Chrollo’s apartment from the car was painful. Hisoka felt a little nauseous, stomach bubbling the way it had when they first did a scene. Chrollo had a grip on the hem of Hisoka’s sweater, tugging him into the lobby of his building, small and determined and as dark as a shadow. 

They didn’t even make it past the kitchen. Chrollo threw all of his weight--not a terrible amount, but considerable--against Hisoka, pinning him back against the front door and then pressing his entire face against Hisoka’s in a sloppy attempt at a kiss. 

Hisoka opened his mouth and tried desperately to get his bearings. Chrollo’s erection was pressed against his thigh, his hips rolling slightly as he scrabbled at Hisoka’s back, trying to pull his shirt off him. 

“Are we gonna have sex?” Hisoka wheezed. His voice sounded too-low, distant. He felt light-headed. 

“Yeah, yeah, fucking yeah,” Chrollo replied quickly. 

“I wanna fuck you, let me--” 

Chrollo swallowed his words with a kiss, wet. Hisoka cringed as his bottom teeth clacked against Chrollo’s. 

“I wanna fuck you, Chrollo,” Hisoka croaked in his ear. 

“You can,” Chrollo said dazedly, fiddling with his belt buckle. He was so handsome. His hair was so dark and fluffy, fluffier than it looked, thick at the back of his head. He was a lot shorter than Hisoka, by at least a couple inches, which was surprising. 

Hisoka never used to think of Chrollo as _small._ He was solid in build, and his presence was, as he had come to learn, very commanding _._

“Bed, bed, bed,” Chrollo slurred. 

“We need to drink… water, Chrollo.” Hisoka slumped against the wall, felt his head swim. Chrollo took one stuttered step backward, until Hisoka could see the entirety of him. His dark pants, his dark shirt, his silly red converse, the sillier red blush on his face. 

He put his hands on his hips, chewing on his lip in thought. Hisoka could tell by the way he blinked, slow, sluggish, overly-aware of it, that Chrollo was about as drunk as he was right now. 

Chrollo stepped back a bit more until the backs of his thighs were hitting the back of the couch. He glanced behind himself and then whipped his head to the front, just in time to catch Hisoka pushing himself off the door and crossing the small foyer of Chrollo’s apartment to push Chrollo and himself onto the couch with the grace of a newborn foal. 

Chrollo let out a _whoof_ as the air left his lungs. His knee accidentally slammed into Hisoka’s stomach, and Hisoka, for a brief but terrifying moment, felt incredibly nauseous. 

“You stopped,” Chrollo said with a frown. Hisoka shook his head, gasping. 

“You _kicked me_.” 

“Ah, sorry, sorry, sorry, c’mere.” Chrollo’s hands, his long fingers, dug into Hisoka’s hair and tugged his head down, mashing their mouths together again. 

Hisoka gurgled in surprise and then caught himself, using his hands to prop his weight up on either side of Chrollo’s head, kissing him with a little bit more control, like how he was used to. 

This was _sex._ There were no blindfolds or handcuffs or vibrators. He felt in his element. This was just sex. 

Chrollo was trying to undo the buttons of his shirt. Hisoka batted his hands away to give it a try, failed as well, and then decided that Chrollo’s shirt on would be okay. 

“Pants,” Chrollo suggested blearily. 

Hisoka worked at his belt for a few seconds until the unassuming silver buckle came undone and his pants were being slid down his thighs rather roughly. He was wearing black boxer briefs, unbranded, his usual, and he was so hard Hisoka sort of wanted to laugh. 

Chrollo propped himself up on his elbows and stared at Hisoka. Half the couch cushions were on the floor. His button down was open at the chest, and the bottom three buttons had been undone as well. Hisoka could see the shudder of his belly as he breathed. 

He pulled Chrollo’s pants all the way off his ankles and then got to work on his own clothes. Chrollo took that time to palm himself, head tipping back as he shakily worked his hand over his erection through his underwear. It was done with little technique or forte, like he was trying to get someone else off and he didn’t know their body very well. His cheeks were pinker than Hisoka had ever seen them. 

Hisoka kicked his clothes off, grabbed Chrollo’s hand at the wrist, and wrenched it away. Chrollo grunted in annoyance, but immediately quieted when Hisoka replaced Chrollo’s hand with his own. 

He sighed, laughed, sniffled. 

“I can’t believe--we should have done this earlier,” Chrollo said. Hisoka was totally naked. Chrollo was nearly there, except for his half-on shirt and a silver necklace with a cross on it, something Hisoka hadn’t noticed before. The chain was long and thick, expensive-looking, and the way the cross was encrusted in diamonds reminded Hisoka of a rapper. It was so misaligned with everything else he knew about Chrollo that he almost wanted to laugh. 

“Nice necklace.” 

“It was a gift,” Chrollo gasped out. 

“No, it wasn’t.” 

Chrollo’s head lifted, eyes blinking with sudden clarity. 

“Come on,” he said after a few seconds, hips rolling as he tried to fuck into Hisoka’s hand. “Stop talking about the necklace.” 

“How much did it cost?” 

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“The only things you spend money on are books and your apartment. Why’d you buy this, Chrollo? It’s not very… pious of you.” Hisoka wedged his thigh between Chrollo’s legs and pressed, until he could feel Chrollo’s dick throb. 

“Do you wear this to church?” He must have taken it off whenever they had sex, because Hisoka hadn’t seen it then, and he wore it under his clothes, which was strange for a necklace as heavy and glitzy as this. 

“I don’t go to church,” Chrollo hissed. 

Hisoka swayed, quite literally knocked off his rhythm. 

“What?” He asked stupidly. Chrollo tried to sit himself up, necklace glinting like teeth, but Hisoka just shifted his weight up and pushed Chrollo back down until his head was against the couch and he was looking up at Hisoka with an unsteady expression.

“I don’t go to church,” Chrollo said. “I don’t--I’m not even religious.” 

“You’re a liar,” Hisoka breathed. 

“I never said--” 

“You made me say the…” Hisoka trailed off at Chrollo’s smile, a little smug, a little sheepish. 

“You _dick_ ,” Hisoka hissed, though he hardly meant it. It was funny, sort of relieving, that Chrollo wasn’t actually a man of God. He probably should have realized it sooner, but now that he did, it was becoming clear that he had not known Chrollo very well at all before. 

He stared down at him, at his outrageously expensive necklace and his darling face, the way his chest heaved with Hisoka’s weight on his stomach. His eyes were wide. He was nervous, probably unsure how Hisoka was going to react. 

Hisoka dropped his head and laughed. Red converse, a necklace for show, and a nearly-dead laptop filled with emails and academic papers that Chrollo hadn’t yet read. 

“Are we still going to have sex?” Chrollo asked, voice barely a whisper. Hisoka dropped his head even further, burying it into Chrollo’s soft neck. He could hear the base of his pulse, could smell his shampoo. 

“It won’t change anything?” Hisoka croaked against his cool skin. 

“Change what? Me? The scenes?” 

“Yeah, the scenes.” Hisoka’s cheeks burned.

“Won’t change shit,” Chrollo replied. 

“Good,” Hisoka breathed out. 

* * *

He kept forgetting that Chrollo wasn’t in charge, that he didn’t have to defer to him. Chrollo was biting at his shoulder so hard it felt like he was trying to drink his blood. If he wanted, he could ask him to stop, though he didn’t think he actually wanted that. 

It felt good, normal sex, just normal sex on a bed (they had stumbled down the hall to Chrollo’s bedroom after a few more seconds of making out, both naked and giggling). The last time he had done something like this was with Carla, and the whole time, he had been thinking of Chrollo. 

Embarrassing, really. 

It felt indescribably good to fuck someone, espeically when that someone was Chrollo. He wanted to make him come, to feel good. He wanted to kiss him as he moaned, to brush the hair from his sticky forehead, run a thumb along his brow. 

“ _I’m close,”_ Chrollo wheezed. For how terribly he took care of himself, he was beautiful to look at. A stomach as pale as that of a fawn, toned, twisting with lean muscle. He wasn’t as built as Hisoka, few were, but he was, surprisingly, nearly there, muscular in a coltish, accidental way, unself-conscious, just silver-casted skin and a trail of dark hair down his navel. 

“I am, too,” Hisoka panted. He wanted Chrollo to come first. Chrollo almost never came during their scenes, and if he did, it was after, so he could give Hisoka his full attention. 

Hisoka’s hand came under Chrollo’s burning neck, fingers digging into the side of his throat. He felt overwhelmed, too hot, mouth loose, like he was about to burst into song, or soliloquy. 

Chrollo’s eyes screwed shut and his legs clamped hard around Hisoka’s waist. He made a sound that came deep from his throat. Hisoka let his head drop against Chrollo’s chest, let his face bury into the warm, silky skin at his neck. He could feel each moan, the vibrations of it. 

It was hard to believe that this was the same man who had cranked up the dial of an e-stim machine as Hisoka began to come, the same man who had held his head down by the forehead and stared into his eyes, expression just shy of blank. 

The same man who’s held a cane against his cheek and told him to breathe. 

“I’m gonna--” Chrollo’s thighs were trembling, and his voice sounded oddly thick. 

_“No,”_ Hisoka protested, almost mournful. He didn’t want it to end. Without giving it more than a second of thought, he reached between their slick bellies and grabbed Chrollo’s cock at the base, squeezing tightly. 

Chrollo gives one furious thrash, still smothered by Hisoka’s weight, and then falls limp with despair. 

_“Fuck, fuck, fuck,”_ he hissed. He sounded angry, and for a second, Hisoka felt a little cowed. 

He leaned over Chrollo, their noses nearly touching, and studied his gaze, the way his eyes cracked open, glimmering with reproachfulness. 

“You good?” Hisoka asked, simple, not overly gentle. Chrollo gave a minute nod, which was Hisoka’s signal to keep going. He leaned back until he was sitting on his heels, holding Chrollo by the slim of his waist to readjust him. 

He felt _tiny,_ the backs of his thighs pressed against Hisoka’s own. Hisoka rubbed his thumb along the fluttering surface of his ribcage and Chrollo’s eyes cracked open. 

Hisoka hadn’t meant for the little intermission, hadn’t meant to stave off Chrollo’s orgasm like that, but the pause felt oddly natural. He felt sober again, felt more or less in control. 

Chrollo, too, seemed to be regaining himself, breathing harshly through his nose like a freediver about to go for a record. 

“Keep going,” Chrollo rasped. His propped up lower half was making his back arch in an obscene way. His head was tilted back, eyes closed like a dream. 

Hisoka thought of the dresser in Chrollo’s closet, the things he had. He wanted to use them. 

Chrollo made an impatient sound, dick twitching a little pathetically, and Hisoka resumed thrusting. 

Too hard, evidently, because Chrollo choked, thighs weakly pushing off Hisoka’s as he arched away. 

“Come on,” Hisoka said, feeling mean again. He leaned his upper half over Chrollo’s, staring him in the eyes. “You’re better than that.” 

He began to thrust faster, harder, and returned his grip on Chrollo’s cock, a gentle but firm presence around his base. 

Chrollo made a sobbing sound and shook his head. 

“I don’t think--I don’t think I--” 

“Listen to me,” Hisoka said lowly. He put his free hand back around the nape of Chrollo’s neck, dropping his forehead against the pillows, mouth in Chrollo’s ear. 

“Listen, Chrollo.” 

_“Hah, hah, please.”_

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Hisoka gasped. He felt close, he felt drunk on it. “All I want is to know what you’re doing, to know how you’re feeling. I can’t even be mean to you anymore, even as a joke--that’s how much I like you.” Chrollo’s stomach was heaving. Hisoka was sure if he pulled his head back and looked him in the eyes, he would see pure vacancy, but that didn’t deter him. 

“I want this all the time,” he snarled, shaky with it. 

“Let me come, Hisoka _, please.”_

“Don’t leave me,” Hisoka choked out, loosening his vice-like grip on Chrollo’s cock and instead smoothing his hand up it’s length, lovingly. Chrollo’s back arched up off the mattress. He cried out something, something that was swallowed by Hisoka leaning in for a kiss, and then he came. 

It shuddered through him like a passing train. He whimpered as it ebbed, head lolling. 

“Bear with me,” Hisoka pleaded gently as Chrollo hiccuped. “I’m almost there, darling.” 

_“Hisoka--”_ Chrollo gasped, heels digging into the mattress as Hisoka continued to pound into him. The wetness between their stomachs was slippery now, warm. Hisoka hooked his thumb into Chrollo’s mouth, against his molars, and wrenched his head to the side, pressing a kiss to one red exposed cheek. 

Chrollo gurgled, skin soft and warm like he’d just woken up from a nap. 

“Okay, okay,” Hisoka breathed against his cheek. “I’m so close, Chro. You’ve been so good.” Chrollo’s held-open mouth was welling with saliva. Hisoka wondered how much it would take to make him cry. 

He already looked a mess: it was desperate, it was _hot._ Hisoka didn’t tell Chrollo how hot he was nearly enough. 

“Can I flip you?” Hisoka asked gently. Chrollo’s eyebrows lifted over bleary eyes. 

“I just wanna--” 

“You will,” Hisoka assured him. Chrollo moaned as Hisoka thumbed over his cock and then he nodded. 

“Flip, flip,” Hisoka said fondly, pulling out a little reluctantly in order to wrap an arm around Chrollo’s waist and flip him over. He was heavy like this, almost dead weight.

Hisoka saw the clock on Chrollo’s nightstand click to 2:43 am. Chrollo propped himself up on all fours and reached down between his legs with one hand to stroke himself. He was already starting to fill out again, but he was still sensitive, if his loud wince was any indication. 

“Hold on,” Hisoka grunted. 

He wrapped one arm around Chrollo’s waist, and the other, he barred it across his chest, pulling him up so that his back was flush to Hisoka’s front. 

Chrollo sagged backwards, head dropping against Hisoka’s shoulder. He was still stroking himself, his rhythm quick and unsteady, hands trembling. 

“Can I do it?” Hisoka murmured against his neck. Chrollo’s brows furrowed, eyes closed like he was in the middle of a dream. 

“ _Yeah_ , but you gotta--you gotta--” Hisoka wrapped his slightly larger hand over Chrollo’s and took control over the pace, moving their hands slower, grip a little firmer. 

Chrollo whimpered, head lifting and dropping like he didn’t know what to do with himself. His free hand scratched lines up his own thigh and then shakily grasped at his bedding. He made another sound, high, a little frustrated, but it petered out into a sound of satisfaction.

When Hisoka sped up his stroke, Chrollo lunged against Hisoka’s hold on his chest to go back on his stomach, counterintuitively trying to cut off Hisoka’s access to his cock. 

_“I can’t, I can’t--”_

“Almost there,” Hisoka said firmly, his own breathing starting to pick up. Chrollo’s mouth planted itself against Hisoka’s neck and his teeth scraped at the skin there. He let out a string of soft, wet moans that sounded like a buildup to something. 

Hisoka reached down with the hand he used to have on Chrollo’s chest and tried to stroke Chrollo’s free arm, but Chrollo’s hand scrabbled at his own until their fingers were interlocked. 

Cute. 

His hands were sweaty.

 _“I think I’m gonna come again,”_ Chrollo half-sobbed. 

Hisoka didn’t remember the last time he’d had sex like this: blood-whipping, black-and-red, blurry-all-over sex. 

Chrollo’s back arched, his chest shuddered with a sob, and he came again all over his own and Hisoka’s hand. 

_“Fuck, fuck, fuck,”_ he gasped. 

The cross on his chest glittered. 

Hisoka came only a minute later, sighing as he spilled into the condom, abs trembling to support all of Chrollo’s weight, who had fallen limp as soon as he had orgasmed, his sweat-slick body pressed against Hisoka’s at nearly every point. 

“Heavy,” Hisoka wheezed, but he didn’t want Chrollo to move, not an inch. He slid his palm up and down Chrollo’s heaving chest, petting at his throat.

Chrollo sounded like he was about to cry, the way he was breathing, the way he was making these tiny, sad little moans, sad that it was over, maybe.

Hisoka pulled out as gingerly as possible and tossed the used condom somewhere. Chrollo let out a weary, breathy laugh at the sound of the condom hitting the floor with a gentle wet smack. 

“Come _here,_ ” Hisoka said, dragging a very limp Chrollo up and under the covers. His red-stained cheek pressed against Hisoka’s shoulder, his breathing was finally normal, and the very sexy sheen of sweat he had acquired during sex was cool and tacky now. 

“We’ll need to shower eventually,” Hisoka rasped. 

“Give me a few minutes,” Chrollo mumbled. 

“I’ll set a timer on my phone.” 

“That was my first time having sex in a while,” Chrollo remarked, sounding a little dazed. “Like, actual sex,” he clarified. 

“I could tell,” Hisoka said, just to be mean. Chrollo bit at Hisoka’s bare shoulder, gentle and lazy, as admonishment. 

“I want to do it again.” As Hisoka said it, his chest expanded with a large, pensive breath. 

Chrollo grumbled in agreement. 

“I want to keep doing it,” Hisoka went on. “I want to have sex like that, with you, all the time.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Chrollo said sleepily. 

“Don’t sleep. We gotta shower.” 

“Five minutes,” Chrollo protested, like a child. He glanced up at Hisoka through almost-closed eyes, just gleaming black slits, rimmed thick in lashes. The red in his cheeks had crawled up his temples. The tip of his nose had a bit of peeling skin, like he had just come back from summer camp. 

“Five minutes,” Hisoka agreed, eyes already starting to close.

* * *

Five minutes later, Hisoka dragged both of them into the shower and they slumped against the tile together, half-heartedly washing themselves. 

“I feel drunk and hungover at the same time,” Chrollo muttered. Hisoka hushed him with a finger. 

“Don’t be rude,” Chrollo said reproachfully. 

“Do you think your friends know?” 

Chrollo’s head tilted against the tile, throat bobbing. Everything about him was lax. His necklace had been taken off, left on his bedside table, the only evidence of it being a slight red indent from where it had been pressed into his skin. 

Hisoka wondered if Chrollo had always had it, and he kept it hidden, or if it was new. He sort of wanted it to be the latter. It felt good to think Chrollo had purchased something like that while he was with him, it made him feel responsible for it. Influential. 

“Maybe,” Chrollo finally decided. 

“You don’t want them to.” Hisoka tried not to sound accusatory, but he wasn’t sure it worked. 

“No, that’s not it,” Chrollo said quickly. His head whipped around to look Hisoka in the eye. Hisoka smiled ruefully and shrugged his shoulders. 

“It’s fine if you want to keep this part, the sex part, a secret.” 

“I don’t want to.” 

“Alright,” Hisoka said lightly. He wanted this conversation to be over. 

“I’m clean,” Chrollo said. He stood and rivulets of water streamed down the length of his body, like some titanic creature emerging from the ocean. Hisoka followed after him, taking the towel he was handed and wrapping his body in it. He felt cold, kind of like how he felt after scenes, and also nauseous, though that was from the alcohol he knew. 

“Are you staying for the night?” Chrollo asked, standing at the edge of his bed, on the left side, which Hisoka knew was the side he preferred. He was silhouetted by the yellow light coming from his table lamp. His slightly wet shoulders gleamed. 

“Can I?” 

“I want you to,” Chrollo said, his voice open and honest. Hisoka, still a little sick to his stomach, padded back to the bedroom and sank into the bed. Chrollo joined him, except, instead of taking his usual side, he sidled right up next to Hisoka, warm and dense. 

Hisoka felt the chill leave him. 

“Sleep,” Chrollo told him, petting once through his hair. 

* * *

Chrollo wasn’t sure what time it was, but it was still dark, which meant he hadn’t been up for long. Hisoka had passed out almost as soon as he had gotten into bed. He was curled up now, fingers tangled in Chrollo’s shirt, cheek against his chest. 

It was funny that for all his size and breadth, Hisoka slept very small. 

He thought about Hisoka too much. He felt too happy when he saw him, felt too empty when he didn’t. It was starting to become so noticeable that Chrollo knew, in a month or a year’s time, he would like back on these few weeks and recognize them only as _Hisoka._ It was like he wasn’t even a person anymore. 

And tonight hadn’t helped. 

Hisoka had talked big game about his sex life. He’d bragged, he’d made innuendos, he’d shown up drunk at Chrollo’s door, begging to fuck him. Still, Chrollo hadn’t really expected it to be _good._

It was the kind of sex that made him want to chant, _i love you, i love you, i love you,_ during it, over and over again. 

Hisoka sniffled out something and rolled, stretching out languidly. Still, he slept on. 

Chrollo rubbed at his brow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thank u so much for reading. i appreciate comments so much and i read every single one 
> 
> until the next update, peace!
> 
> my twitter is here :

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for the very vanilla first chapter, but i had to break the ice :) i promise its gets more spicy later on 
> 
> thank u so much for reading and as always, comments are my lifeblood! 
> 
> until the next update, peace!


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